


Two Mobsters and a Vigilante Walk into a Convenience Store... PART 2

by CrazyCranberry



Series: Two Mobsters and a Vigilante [2]
Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon Divergence, Daredevil – Freeform, Ella thinks that everyone is a weirdo, Friendship, at least a little bit, everyone love's Ella
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-04-14 10:25:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4561038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyCranberry/pseuds/CrazyCranberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daredevil TV, AU.</p><p>Vladimir, Anatoly, and Matt are now semi-permanent fixtures in the store, and Ella has finally showed Matt how to wipe up his own blood. All three still actively try to avoid one another, but they're civil when in Ella's presence. NO ONE wants a repeat of the broom incident. Ever. But now, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen and the Russian Mobsters are not the only ones who've taken an interest in the convenience store worker. </p><p>Ella meets, well, more or less threatens, James Wesley, opening her world up to the rest of the city's notorious, and not-so-notorious, criminals. It turns out, Ella actually loves fortune cookies, and ogling fine art could conceivably be a great new pastime.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Where's a broom when you need one?

Ella was practically dead on her feet by the time she stumbled into her apartment. Neither Matt nor the brothers had stopped by the store today– only a disgruntled mother of three, and a thirteen year old that had tried nab a candy bar. “Civilians…” Ella muttered under her breath, dropping her bag on the coffee table and moving to turn on lights in the living room. Just as her fingers ghosted over the switch, a voice spoke from behind her.

“Mr. Johnson–”

Ella let out an unholy shriek as she spun, flicking on the lights as she did so, and reaching for the baseball bat she kept in her main entryway. “What the _fuck_ man!” she yelled, bat raised menacingly over her shoulder as she faced the intruder. He was well dressed, the suit obviously costing more than a year’s worth of her rent. Light blue eyes blinked at her rather owlishly from behind a pair of designer glasses.

“You’re not Mr. Johnson,” the man stated, and Ella could tell he was fighting to regain his previous composure. She gave him a deadpan look as he straightened out the front of his jacket.

“No _shit_. Last time I checked I wasn’t a man _or_ a Johnson,” she spat, positively livid. She just wanted to make some Kraft Mac and Cheese and call it a day. Was that too much to ask? _“Apparently,”_ Ella thought to herself.

“My apologies, Ms…?” he said, stepping forward, but freezing when Ella raised the bat a fraction of an inch higher.

“Like _hell_ I’m telling you my name. Is that even part of the burglar protocol– you know what,  _never mind,_ just get _out_ of my apartment,” she said, and the man raised his hands in what was supposed to be a ‘I-mean-no-harm’ gesture.

“Mr. Johnson is a…friend of mine, I was only waiting for him. I thought this was his apartment and the door was unlocked,” he said, the lie delivered with a flawless pokerface and unwavering voice. Ella knew full well that she had locked her door– she lived in Hell’s Kitchen, not Disney World. She humored him anyway.

“If you make it a habit of waiting for your ‘friends’ in dark apartments, standing menacingly in a corner, I think you should get help, dude,” she said, scrutinizing him as he shuffled toward the door, hands still raised. He smiled– it was closed lipped and stiff. There was no amusement or warmth to be seen– only mild panic. _“Good,”_ Ella thought, _“you should be panicking, ‘cause if you try anything this bat is going up your ass.”_

“Is there anything I could do to make you _forget_ this incident?” the man inquired, reaching up with one hand to smooth back his head of brown hair. Ella squinted at him.

“…Yeah,” she said after a moment of hesitation, and the man looked honestly relieved, “get _out_ of my apartment and don’t go around lurking in dark rooms. Especially rooms that belong to _me_. I mean, what if I had a weak heart– you can't _mess_ with people like that.” The man was honestly surprised at her request and mild outburst, probably expecting her to demand his spotless Oxfords. Or to break down into hysterics. 

“I was thinking more along the lines of a…monetary compensation,” he said, his tone indicating that he fully expected Ella to accept. He even went as far as to glance around her matchbox of a flat with something close to _disgust_. But, Ella valued the simple things, and food and sleep were very high on her list right now.

“ _No thanks,_ and every minute you’re still in here, is one less minute I have to enjoy my dinner and get to bed before my morning shift. So, can you please _leave_ , like I’ve asked, _what_ , four times now?” Ella exclaimed. The intruder only nodded, finally exiting with a particularly insincere ‘enjoy your evening’. With a sigh, she sank down into her couch, bat held loosely in the hand that dangled over the edge. “I’m like a _magnet_ for the threatening weirdos,” she groaned, throwing one arm over her eyes. After a few minutes her stomach grumbled in assent.

“ _Feed me, Seymour_ ,” she mocked, laughing at her own joke, before heaving herself off of her heavenly piece of furniture. She changed quickly and efficiently into her flannel pajamas, because she couldn’t afford to keep the heat _too_ high, and proceeded to make dinner. Although she managed to burn the boxed Mac and Cheese (falling asleep at the counter was admittedly not one of her finest moments), it was a pretty decent evening from there on out. Well, almost. She had just burrowed all of the way under the covers when there were a series of heinously loud knocks at the door. Ella groaned, debating on whether or not to just ignore whoever it was, before the knocks sounded again, impossibly louder, and _very_ insistent. Ella wanted to _cry_. With a whine, she all but threw herself out of bed and trudged to the front door, not even attempting to tame her wild mess of hair, or straighten out her pajama top.

She swung open the door with a flourish, leveling a dangerously neutral expression onto the suited man before her. It wasn’t the intruder– this man was younger, if only by a few years, his suit the standard black and white, his hair more blonde than brown. Two other men stood behind him, all donning the same attire. Ella was always ready to admire a man in a suit, but not when said man interrupted her beauty sleep. She only wanted to admire the fluff of her pillow, at this point. “ _What_?” she hissed, completely bypassing formalities. The men looked entirely taken aback, the first one stuttering out something that sounded like it could’ve been a question, but all ultimately remaining in stunned silence, looking at her like she had ten heads. “If you don’t speak up in the next _five_ seconds–”

“Is Wesley here?” the first one asked, peering over her head and into the dark apartment. Ella fought the urge to outright _snarl_ at him. _Was there a rumor going around that she was a_ man?

“There’s no Wesley here, and there’s also no Johnson, because I’m assuming that’d be your next question,” she ground out, placing both palms against her eyes and letting out a long breath to keep from strangling the men before her. _“Where’s my broom when I need it?”_ Ella thought.

“Francis!” Ella looked up as the intruder from before, who she now surmised was Wesley, strolled down the hallway, the man in front of her turning at the sound of the name– _his_ name, apparently. “I’m so sorry, they were supposed to meet me at Mr. Johnson’s apartment, but I gave them _this_ address– the _wrong_ address,” he said, coming to stand to the right of Francis, and waving the other men away with a flick of his wrist.

“Uh huh,” Ella grunted, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe, “cool story, bro, really, I’m _enthralled_ , but if you’re done showing up at my apartment during random hours of the night, I’m going to go _sleep_. As much as I love rocking my jammies in front of well-dressed strangers, it gets old.” Wesley stared at her for a few moments, sizing her up, and Ella reciprocated the look, standing up a bit straighter.

“Of course. I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” he said, and Ella noted just a _tad_ bit more sincerity in his voice than before, his smile a degree warmer. Good thing, too, because Ella was ready to _beat_ the sincerity into him if need be. She nodded, and was in the process of closing the door, when he spoke again. “Oh, and miss–”

“Yeah, yeah, the Men in Black were never here, _got it_ ,” she said, giving Wesley the most sarcastic thumbs up she could muster. He actually smiled then, pearly whites gleaming in the fluorescents, before turning and disappearing back down the hallway. “A weirdo magnet, _I swear to god_ ,” Ella muttered, before retreating to her bedroom for much needed rest. She couldn’t wait to tell Matt and the brothers of her encounter– maybe they even _knew_ the guy? The Russians _were_ criminals and Matt _chased_ criminals, so it was probable, right? _“Right,”_ Ella confirmed, before snuggling under her blanket, and succumbing to sleep.


	2. Is This a Weird Threesome Deal, Or...?

It had been nearly a week since Ella had seen head or tail of Matt, Vladimir, or Anatoly, and she was becoming… _irritable_. Outside of those three, Ella didn’t have many friends– her life revolved around her store, and when she wasn’t working she was either eating, watching Netflix, or trying to learn morse code from her neighbor. (He started knocking on the wall one day, and Ella knocked back, now it had escalated into an all-out war, that Ella drowned out with her shitty radio when she had no inclination to respond.) So, given those circumstances, she was equal parts annoyed, suspicious, and hopeful, when someone knocked on her door at ten on a Sunday morning.Clutching her coffee mug to her chest, she shuffled to the door, not bothering to look through the peephole. She had a cup of near boiling coffee in her hand, and she knew how to throw. Or ‘accidentally on purpose’ spill, and she almost did just that, upon seeing who was standing on her ‘Welcome’ mat.

“Wesley,” she said, narrowing her eyes as she took in another insanely expensive suit. It looked like pure silk had had a baby with the softest cotton on earth.

“Ella,” Wesley responded, and she couldn’t stop the slight upturning of her lip– the beginning of a full out grimace.

“You know, it’s pretty creepy when you break into someone’s home, and then show up at _their_ door, using the name that she _never_ gave to you. Very, _very_ creepy, and I don’t appreciate it at all,” Ella snapped, raising a brow in challenge.

“I’m actually here to offer you a formal apology–”

“He’s _actually_ here to offer you _art_ ,” a new voice chimed in, cutting Wesley off. A woman stepped into view from where she had been lounging to the side of the door. _“Do these people hang out at award shows for a living, god damn,”_ Ella thought, gawking at the woman’s beautiful dress– white, short sleeved, with a daringly low v-shaped, neckline.

“Art?” Ella questioned, reigning in her fashion fanatic.

“Yes, may we come in?” the woman asked, entirely polite with a very slight accent that Ella couldn’t pinpoint for the life of her. Ella’s mother had also warned her about her lack of a filter, but unfortunately that warning had fallen on deaf ears.

“Is this some sort of weird threesome deal, because if so, I’m _really_ not interested–”

“ _No_ , no,” Wesley rushed out, absolutely horrified, “she meant as in _paintings_ and _only_ paintings!” Ella took a minute to silently revel in both people’s expression of discomfort and mild shock, before beckoning them inside.

“Well… _okay then_ , but why?” Ella asked, taking a seat on the arm of her couch, sipping her coffee absently as she waited for an explanation. She had her bat in her view at all times.

“To apologize for showing up at your apartment at such odd hours of the night,” Wesley said, hands folded neatly in front of him.

“Art,” Ella deadpanned, and that’s when the woman stepped up, all refined grace and elegant strides.

“We have an array of incredible pieces at my gallery, and Wesley thought it would be the least he could do,” she explained, and Ella breathed out slowly through her nose.

“I don’t feel comfortable taking things from _anyone_ , even quiet, lurk-in-the-corner, would-be burglars, who are trying to make amends,” Ella said, setting her mug down on the coffee table.

“We insist. Please,” the woman said, and Ella took in her polite smile, and killer crimson lipstick.

“Is this your way of still trying to shut me up? I said I wouldn’t tell any and I won’t, and I’m more often than not a woman of her word, except when food is involved, _maybe_ –”

“No, this is a sincere apology. I’m new at it,” Wesley said, shrugging, but Ella could see right through to the underlying insecurity. He really _was_ trying to make this whole situation right, even if it came off as vaguely irritating effort to try and buy her silence.

“…Alright, so, how does this work? Do you have an online catalog, or…?”

“I was actually thinking that we could take a ride down to the gallery so you could see the paintings in person,” the woman said, and Ella shrugged, standing, “I’m Vanessa, by the way.” She stuck her hand out to shake and Ella took it without hesitation. Wesley stood quiet and reserved to the side.

“Coolio, alright, well, I’m going to go put on my ‘have to interact with people’ clothes. I’ll be out in a minute,” Ella said, before disappearing into her room. She shimmied out of her pajamas, and hastily threw on a pair of jeans, flats, and one of her nicer button ups– navy blue and cinched at the sides, before grabbing her wallet.

“Our car is waiting downstairs,” Wesley said, and Ella gasped as they walked out into the hallway. “ _Downstairs_? _Really_? I’d assume it was upstairs on the roof, but if you’re _sure_ you remember where you parked it,” Ella said, all snark. Wesley only rolled his eyes, while Vanessa let out a delicate laugh. She could live with that.

~~~~~~

_“Do I have to whisper or–”_

“No, you can talk at regular volume.”

“Oh, _thank god_ ,” Ella sighed, eyes raking over the various pieces of art that adorned the walls. Each piece was beautiful in it’s own right, and Ella fought the urge to gawk. “So, I just pick one?” she asked, wandering with unsure steps around the gallery. She stopped to examine the first few pieces for only half a minute at most, Vanessa and Wesley trailing behind her.

“Yes, but make sure it _speaks_ to you– makes you _feel_ something,” Vanessa said, and Ella was doubtful. Sure, she liked art. It was nice, but she never stopped to admire. She gave fleeting glances, brief hums of approval, and usually moved on. It felt odd to be _scrutinized_ while _scrutinizing_.It had been almost half an hour before Ella finally found it. The canvas itself was painted the most brilliant shade of blue she had ever seen, the entirety of the piece consisting of valleys, or oceans, or maybe cliff-sides, outlined it various whites, and murky grays. It was _breathtaking_.

“This one is…just, wow. Wow is really the only word that comes to mind, and if you know me, you know how rare it’s for only _one_ thing to be on my mind,” Ella said, taking a step back to try and see more of the painting; see it from another angle.

“It suits you, Ella. I find that a painting and it’s owner that actually seem to connect, is a very rare find,” Vanessa said, “I’ll have it at your apartment my tomorrow evening.” Ella had a little bit of difficulty tearing her eyes away, but she managed– barely.

“Thank you. The painting will probably be a wall of it’s own, but I’m sure it’ll fit right in,” Ella said, and Vanessa hugged her– curt and sweet, and nothing more than Ella had expected from a woman like her. She then turned to follow Wesley back down to the car.

“That was a marvelous piece of art,” he said, as they exited the gallery and walked towards the SUV humming by the curb.

“No argument there, man,” Ella said, excited and a little worried to have something so expensive and well-made in her part of town.

“Oh, and so you don’t do anything _rash_ ,” Wesley said, and Ella immediately knew he meant stupid and/or violent, “my employer will actually be riding with us on the way to your apartment.”

“No problemo,” Ella chirped, hopping up into the car as the driver, with Wesley right on her heels.

“Hello.” The man sitting across from her had the stature of a _giant_ , his gaze cold and calculative, and his face stoic.

“Hello to you, too,” Ella said, sticking out her hand for him to shake. She was always one to meet danger head on, and this was no different. Wesley’s ‘employer’ had the demeanor of an irritable caged lion. Ella was the same when she couldn’t get her hands on chocolate.

“Wilson,” the man offered, and she smiled as she took his hand– it swallowed hers completely.

“Ella,” she stated, thought she knew that he was well aware of what her name was. She had gotten involved with _something–_ she could feel it, but no _major_ alarm bells had been set off yet. Oh, the brothers and Matt were going to have a _field day_ with this when she told them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Comments and feedback are always appreciated! 
> 
> Find me on Tumblr: http://awesomeandromedablack.tumblr.com/


	3. Cool weekend, right?

It was ten minutes to twelve on Monday, and Ella decided that the store needed a good sweeping. Well, not really, but she needed a semi-decent distraction to the boredom wracking her brain and the sharp pang of annoyance as her brain kept wandering back to Anatoly, Vladimir, and Matt who still had not shown their faces in the store. She briefly wondered if the brothers had actually left New York and failed to send her the memo, and if Matt had walked into an open manhole and was stuck in the sewer system fighting Ninja Turtles. It was going on a week by now, and Ella repeatedly told herself, and anyone else that would ever dare to ask, that she didn’t miss _them_ , she missed their _company_. 

“Stupid mobsters, stupid cinnamon roll ninjas, stupid would-be robbers…” Ella grumbled as she cranked up some music on her phone. By this point she wasn’t exactly sweeping, per say, but more beating the floor with the broom. Her grumbles eventually morphed into ground out song lyrics as the clock ticked towards one a.m. As she finished the Goofy Goober theme song from Spongebob, a _nd yes that show is absolutely for adults_   _too_ , a pair of hands cinched around her waist and hoisted her a foot into the air. Ella shrieked, flinging the broom down and backwards, connecting solidly with her attacker’s knees. An ‘oof’ sounded, before the attacker, _and it was male, definitely male,_ fell bodily to the floor, taking Ella with him, his arms winding tightly around her waist. His chest was against her back– she couldn’t see his face, but when she did _she’d claw his fucking eyes out_. “I’m going to shove this broom into places it was never meant to be–” Ella began to growl, but stopped when the man spoke.

“Broom may be my weapon of choice from now on,” Vladimir stated, laughing. Ella froze, then violently wiggled from his arms and onto the floor, cursing him to Hell (taking a millisecond to laugh at the pun) then taking off her shoe and swatting him with it. “You _asshole_!” she shrieked, batting him over the head with her Converse, thwarting every attempt he made to get off of the floor. “I have told you time and again about my _heart_ , you don’t sneak up on people– do you know how _rude_ that is?! Pretty _fucking rude_ , and I’ve always been hesitant about being airborne, you _bastard_ , so lifting me without my _express_ permission is a solid _no_. You interrupted my Spongebob song, Vladimir! You know what, I might just go back to calling you Steven–”

“I’ve missed you, too,” Vladimir chuckled, interrupting Ella’s lecture. She swatted him one last time, breathing ragged, before collapsing beside Vlad to put her shoe back on.

“ _Missedyoutoo_ ,” Ella hissed, her glare half-hearted as she flicked the side of the Russian’s head for extra measure.

“I apologize for my brother, as usual,” another voice spoke up, and Ella turned to see a very amused Anatoly leaning against a rack of fruit snacks.

“ _Don’t you smile at me_ , you’re an accomplice to what just happened,” Ella snapped, rising to her feet, Vladimir doing the same.

“Sorry,” Anatoly said, but his smile didn’t falter in the slightest.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ella snapped, waving him off and retrieving her broom from the floor, “tell it to the tomato soup, you _liar_.”

“I see the store is as busy as usual,” Anatoly said, completely ignoring her last statement. Ella rested her back against the counter and squinted her eyes.

“Must be because _you’re_ here,” she replied, giving both brothers a sugary sweet smile as they donned glares of their own.

“Enough of insulting, what have you done for this week? I want to hear amusing stories of you beating people with broom,” Vladimir said, retrieving one of the chairs that had taken up permanent residence beside the counter. Anatoly and Ella followed suit.

“ _Well_ … last Saturday a guy broke into my apartment and I almost beat him with a bat, so _that_ was something,” Ella said, and the Russian’s stiffened, Anatoly immediately interjecting before Ella could continue.

“What did he want? Did he _hurt_ you?”

“Nah,” Ella said, reclining further back, “he was actually looking for somebody else, so he left, no violence required, _and I totally would’ve been the one who initiated the violence_. I was mistaken for a man by three of his lackeys, too–”

“Who–” Vladimir began, only to be cut off by Ella.

“ _Hush_! Let me finish,” she snapped, and Vladimir sank down into his chair, disgruntled.

“So, he came back on Sunday with a pretty shit attempt at an apology, which was weird in and of itself. He brought this woman Vanessa with him– oh, and his name is Wesley, pretty old fashioned and my mind immediately went to ‘Blade’, but _anyways_ , we went to an art gallery where Vanessa let me take a painting. It’s sitting in my living room, and is totally out of place, but it’s _beautiful_. Anyways, I picked out art and then met his bossman who is fucking _huge_ , I mean the guy could’ve been an overweight linebacker–”

“His…boss. What is his name?” Anatoly said, and the timidity of his voice instantly caught Ella’s attention.

“Wilson…” she said, eyes darting between the brothers, “Wilson Fisk.”

“ _WHAT_!?” Vladimir screamed, rocketing from his chair. Anatoly only stared, a mixture of horror and barely concealed rage coloring his paling face. His eyes scoured Ella, looking for any sign of injury, hands closing into impossibly tight fists in his lap.

“Yeah, well, _crazy weekend_ , right?” Ella muttered, half-smiling, half grimacing as Vladimir’s face threatened to go _purple_. She hadn’t been expecting _this_ reaction to her the tale of her weekend adventures– she thought that it would be a good laugh, not heart palpitation inducing.

“He could have _killed_ you, этот ублюдок , я буду иметь голову!” Vladimir growled, raking a hand through his hair.

“What did he do? Does he know where you _live_? Did he _threaten_ you?” Anatoly demanded, and Ella only shook her head.

“Wilson and Wesley _only_ dropped me off at my apartment. There wasn’t any mention of seeing each other ever again or anything. I didn't even really _talk_ to him, he just rode with us,” she muttered, shrugging her shoulders as the brothers continued to pace anxiously before her. They were speaking rapid fire Russian to one another, Ella’s head whipping back and forth as she followed their trek from chair to chair. “How do you know him… _them_?” she finally asked. She thought of the irony that anyone in her unconventional trio would know the men, but she didn’t really stop to think of _how_.

“Fisk, he almost _decapitated_ my brother, he ruined our reputation, he _lied_ to us–”

“Fisk is not a man, he is _animal_.” Anatoly finished his brother’s sentence with an equal amount of venom. Ella blinked at them, her half-smile wilting on her face. So, _another_ psychotic trio had found its way into her life. How…nice?

“You will stay with us,” Vladimir announced, which had Ella on her feel in an instant. Anatoly was already grabbing her coat, but Ella slapped Vladimir’s hand with a discarded Twix bar as he reached for her bag. “ _No_ , no, no, that’s the very definition of suspicious! Let’s just say for arguments sake that they’re watching me. if I suddenly up and leave, won’t that look a little… _funny_? I mean, I’m no expert, but I’ve seen enough action movies to know _something._ Besides, I'm a _capable,_  badasswoman with a broom and a bat,” she said. Vladimir stared her down for a moment, always ready to argue, before Anatoly placed a hand upon his arm.

“It’s... unwise,” he said, and Vladimir shook off his hand with a curse, almost going as far as to stomp his foot.

“ _Fine_. But we are walking you to your home– I don’t trust Fisk _or_ his lap dog,” Vladimir spat, and Ella’s eyebrows shot sky high.

“What– _No, you’re not_! Your history with this guy is apparently some guillotine like shit, and I’m not going to take you to a place where he most likely will be…possibly. I warned Wesley about waiting in dark corners, so I _think_ he got the message, but besides that, you could barely contain yourselves when you ran into Blindfolded Ninja, _and I don’t need any blood spilt on my new hardwoods_!” Ella said, chest heaving as her rant drew to a close, cheeks flushed and hands perched challengingly on her hips. The brothers were silent for a moment, shocked by her outburst, before Anatoly’s expression softened.

“We… _I_ know what he is capable of doing. We will not let you walk into an ambush _alone_. If he is there, we will deal. If he is not, we know you are safe,” he stated, and dammit, Ella was not going to cry. _She wasn’t_.

“…Alright. But can you guys _at least_ pick up hoodies or something? I dig the leather jacket look but it’s not doing much for covering your faces…”

****

Two hours and one stop to a thrift store later, the brothers arrived at Ella’s apartment with her, begrudgingly, in tow. The sky was just beginning to go pink, far out over the bay, and it was a beautiful view.

“Home sweet home,” Ella muttered, as they sauntered through the lobby and up seven flights of stairs, “I’m right over here.” Just before she could reach for the knob, Vladimir snatched the key from her hands and was inside of the apartment in moments. Ella grumbled under her breath but let him go. It was dark within, as Ella suspected, and remained dark as the brothers looked around, peering under tables and into the only closet Ella possessed.

“It is clear,” Anatoly called out after a few moments, voice emanating from the kitchen, and Ella breathed a sigh of relief. She swung the door shut and ambled over to the kitchen, dug through the fridge and retrieved a leftover pizza from earlier in the week. “Do you guys want anything? You eat food, right? Mobsters do that? I mean, you obviously _eat_ , but like, I think the souls of children suit you more,” she said, quirking an eyebrow and collapsing onto the couch.

“We’re fine,” Vladimir deadpanned, as him and Anatoly took up the spaces beside Ella, the trio relaxing into the cushions as the first rays of light started filtering in through the curtains. Ella finished up the pizza, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and letting loose a yawn. The trek to her bedroom seemed incredibly difficult, the bed a million miles away; not something she was willing to do at this hour. Without much, _or any_ , deliberation, Ella kicked off her shoes, placed her feet on the coffee table, and leant heavily against Vladimir’s shoulder.

“What’re you doing?” Vladimir murmured, his eyes still shut, arms crossed in an effort to become more comfortable.

“Shhhh,” Ella whispered, pressing one hand across his face, patting it once, and then retreating back into herself.

“странная женщина,” Vladimir said, a small smile turning up the corner of his lips.

“I don’t speak asshole,” Ella hummed, smirking as sleep took her under.

“We stay until noon?” Anatoly asked, removing his jacket and settling in for a few hours of rest. Vladimir quietly agreed, heaving out a sigh and keeping one ear tuned toward the front entrance.

They all awoke in a state of disarray at 4 in the afternoon to a heinous ‘bang’ that rattled the front door, nearly sending it flying off it’s hinges.

 

 

 

Russian Translations: 

этот ублюдок , я буду иметь голову: "That bastard, I'll have his head!"

странная женщина: "Strange woman."


	4. A Penguin in a Suit Ain't Got Nothin' on Me

“ _Fuck_!” Ella spat, tumbling from the couch and onto the hardwoods. At some point during the night she’d wound up half draped over Vladimir and, unfortunately, he came tumbling to the ground with her when she fell. Anatoly faired no better. He shot up from the couch and promptly all but launched himself over the coffee table, proceeding to face plant.

“Who is it?!” Ella called out, trying to untangle her legs from the Russian’s.

“It’s…uh, Francis!” a voice yelled back, and Ella swore again, darting to her feet and heaving Vladimir up with her.

“ _Hide_!” she hissed, yanking Vladimir along by his coat sleeve, pausing briefly to collect Anatoly.

“ _Nyet_! _Is one of Fisk’s men_ ,” Vladimir hissed back, gun materializing in his hand. Ella groaned, rolling her eyes.

“ _He’s a penguin in a suit_ , _I can deal with him_. _You two go_ hide. _I don’t need him finding you in here_ ,” she whispered, shooing them in a random direction. It was like pushing at two stubborn walls.

“ _We are here for_ your _protection_ , _not the other way around_ ,” Anatoly snapped, and Ella resisted the urge to strangle him. Francis wasn’t too much of a threat– Ella had spent enough time around him last weekend to know _that_. He wouldn’t attack unless thoroughly provoked. Two rivals/ex-associates in her living room would justify as _sufficient_ provocation.

“Ella?” Francis called, and it took only a millisecond to register that his voice was coming from _inside_ of the apartment now. Without thinking, Ella shoved both brothers down behind the couch, and strolled into the apartment's entryway.

“You know, people usually wait for the owner of the apartment to open the door,” she said, crossing her arms and leaning nonchalantly against the living room’s doorjamb. She was hyper aware of the deafening silence permeating from behind her. It hung in the air like a taught wire, ready to snap at a moments notice.

“I’m sorry, but I heard some commotion– I just wanted to make sure you were alright,” he said. Ella raised on eyebrow, completely unimpressed. She had no doubt that that was his intention, but _still_ – these people had _no_ concept of privacy. None. Whatsoever. It was actually very disconcerting. Under Ella’s gaze, Francis was trying to keep up the air of the Secret Service, but was coming off as more of an embarrassed mall cop. “Well, I'm just here to give you _this_ ,” Francis said, before retrieving a white envelope from his pocket. Ella looked at it for a second, perplexed, before anger and the tendrils of suspicion began to simmer low in her stomach. She snatched the envelope from Francis’s hand, and with a nod he turned to go.

“Nope, _nope_ , you’re staying _right there_ ,” Ella ordered, and Francis stumbled backwards as she gripped the back of his jacket.

“What, _why_?” he asked, confusion giving way to nervousness. Ella said nothing as she opened the envelope because _she_ knew that _he_ knew _exactly_ why she wasn’t letting him leave– yet. Inside, as she expected, was a check. She threw the envelope to the floor and had to read the number on the check _three_ times just to be sure she wasn’t imagining things. She hadn’t seen that many zeroes since tenth grade algebra class midterms.

“Wesley?” she asked, voice low and unfaltering.

“Wesley and my… employer,” Francis said, freeing himself from her grip and turning to face her. His eyes were wide with barely concealed panic, the anxiety making him fidget. Suddenly, there was a soft thump from behind the couch and Francis swerved to look but Ella quickly stepped into his line of sight, replicating the sound with a light stomp of her foot.

“ _Look_ , I told him _no_ , and when I say no, I _mean_ it,” Ella said, folding the check neatly and shoving it back into the front of Francis’s suit.

“But ma’am–”

“ _No_. I’m not taking their money and I’m _not_ going to talk, and if they want to forget any of this ever happened, Vanessa can have her art back too–”

“But–”

“ _What_!?”

“Wesley intended the money to be used towards your apartment… or a new one,” Francis rushed out, trying to get a word in between Ella’s rant. She deflated a bit at this knowledge, but remained firm in her resolve.

“I’m _fine_. I love my apartment– the art was more than enough. If he _really_ wanted to apologize he would’ve gotten me a shit ton of Kraft Mac and Cheese, _but_ as long as he takes my advice about not waiting for friends in dark corners, we’re all dandy. Tell him thank you, but _no thank you_.” Francis looked ready to protest but only sighed. Ella smiled– wise man.

“Alright… have a goodnight,” he said, before retreating into the hallway and out of sight. Ella quickly checked the doorknob; no damage had been done, leaving her baffled as to how he got inside. _“Freaky, personal space invading Men in Black,” she thought._ She closed the door, and before she could even clear the threshold to the living room the brother’s were before her, both enraged.

“ _He could’ve been sent to kill you_ –”

“But he _wasn’t_. If he was sent to kill me, do you really think he’d _knock_?” Ella said, shutting down Anatoly’s argument before it could even begin.

“We do not take _chances_ ,” Vladimir ground out, making Ella huff.

“Well I’m not dead, so–”

“ _But you could’ve been_!” Vladimir shouted, grabbing her upper arms. Ella stared, mouth agape as Vladimir heaved in breaths, eyes boring into hers, begging her to understand the weight of his statement. Slowly, a smile began to creep across her face, morphing into the most shit-eating grin he’d ever seen. Before Vladimir could even think to form a question, Ella had her arms wrapped around him in the tightest hug she could manage, and in a sickly sweet voice sang out, “you _do_ care!” Vladimir froze for a moments before hugging her back, muttering darkly over the top of her head.

“Yeah, yeah,” she laughed, breaking away to then hug Anatoly who wore a fond smile. She could tell that they still weren’t the hugging type, but Ella liked pushing boundaries. Another quality her mother had warned her about. “So, are pancakes good for everyone here?” Ella asked, breaking away towards the kitchen.

“Вы чертовски сумасшедший , Эллу,” Vladimir called out.

“I take Russian as yes!” Ella called back, retrieving the mix from the cabinet.

~~~~~~

It was around six o’clock, six hours longer than the brother’s had intended to stay, before they finally left. Stomachs full, they departed, leaving Ella with the numbers to both of their burner phones.

“If anything happens–”

“ _Call_ , I got it,” Ella chuckled, all but pushing them out of the door. Shaking her head at the day’s events, Ella made sure the door was locked before retreating to her room for the night. There was a crick in her back from sleeping on the couch/Vladimir, and the adrenaline had really drained her. She wasn’t going into work today– screw the city’s snacking needs. Come morning, though, Ella realized that her tangents were really going to come back and bite her in the ass. She didn’t account for the fact that while Francis wasn’t exactly _threatening_ , he was _observant_. He paid attention to every word that left her mouth, which Ella found extremely impressive, because half the time she didn’t even remember what she was saying, or what she had said. She came to all of these realizations when, upon opening her door to go check her mail, she ran face first into a tower of boxes– industrial sized boxes of Kraft Mac and Cheese. On the box that sat at eye level was a post-it note, with small, elegant handwriting. It read:

 

“A _real_ apology.

–W.”

 

Ella bit her lip to hold back a scream, took a few calming breaths, gave the food another longing, aggravated glare, before beginning the process of pushing it all inside.

 

 

 

Russian Translation: Вы чертовски сумасшедший , Эллу = "You're fucking crazy, Ella."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If the Russian is wrong, PLEASE tell me.


	5. Ninja work doesn't pay too well, does it?

“So… no killing?”

“No.”

“Like… _at all_?”

“ _Yes_.” Ella stared hard at Matt as he reached for another hand full of popcorn, the bowl jostling slightly as his hand knocked against the side. Both were currently sitting crosslegged in an aisle, backs against the shelves, and a bowl of popcorn resting in the foot of distance between them. “Well, then how’re you planning to take him down– no, _you know what_? I don't _want_ to know. It’s not my business,” Ella said, crossing her arms.

“Okay–”

“ _Unless_ you beat him with a broom. Then I want details. Especially if it’s _my_ broom, then I might want pictures,” Ella said, and Matt laughed, the sound for once not interrupted by a groan of pain.

“Will do,” he chuckled, before quickly sobering. “I still don’t like that Fisk knows where you live.” Ella had told Matt about her weekend adventures and about the brief hide and seek session with Vladimir and Anatoly; he had reacted much the same as the brothers had.

“ _What the fuck_ , has he threatened you? Have you been followed, are they _harassing_ you?” Matt had fired off, almost spiraling into a full on panic attack. A panic attack that involved a lot of cursing. Ella had eventually calmed him down, told him about the Mac and Cheese and the painting, and had coerced him into sitting down with her for an impromptu snack time.

“He knows where I live, but I don’t think it’s… _important_? I guess? I can’t see why they’d ever stop by again, unless it’d be to give me more food _because I totally support that_ , but all in all I think we’re good,” Ella said, prodding Matt’s foot with her own.

“Maybe,” Matt said, shrugging as he reached for the entire bowl, arms flexing and _“hot damn, biceps like those should be illegal.”_ “So, the brothers seemed awfully concerned about you.”

“Yeah,” Ella said, before continuing on more enthusiastically, “I actually _hugged_ them without getting a knife to the face, and I get a warm and fuzzy feeling inside when I realize that I’m probably the only person who can actually say that. Well, that and the fact that I could probably lecture their asses into the ground if they tried. I live for small achievements.”

“If you’re sure you trust them, then… I will, too. For now,” Matt conceded, stretching his arms up over his head. Ella briefly thought to mention that the Russians would be leaving soon enough, but held her tongue. She didn’t want to tell _just_ yet, incase the brothers had wanted to keep it under raps. The two sat in companionable silence for a while, Ella switching on the ancient radio she kept at the front of the store, before her curiosity got the best of her.

“As much as I’m digging this whole ‘Blindfolded Ninja, Fight Me, Bro’ thing you’ve got going, I don’t think it pays too well,” Ella said, and Matt nodded, and was probably quirking an eyebrow underneath the blindfold. It suddenly struck Ella that she’d never seen him out of his all black ensemble and she vaguely wondered if he slept in it, too. Maybe showered in it if he was particularly inclined to do so. “So, do you have a day job? You’re under no obligation _whatsoever_ to answer, I’m just being the curious weirdo you’ve come to know and love.” Matt smiled, and _“why in the hell are his teeth so white, I need to ask him what he uses”_ before nodding.

“I do… it doesn’t pay too well, either,” he said, shrugging, but something in his voice was hinting at an inside joke.

“Either you find your day job freaking hilarious, or there’s some _serious_ irony I’m missing out on,” Ella said, snatching the bowl of popcorn back from him.

“…Irony. _Definitely_ irony,” Matt chuckled, and Ella stuck her tongue out at him, as childish and fruitless as it might have been. “Alright, Mysterio. I’m going to have a list of potential jobs next time I see you, and I’m going to guess until I get it. So, you’ve been warned,” Ella said, and Matt responding smile melted her heart a little. She had a feeling that he didn’t smile like that too often.

“Sounds good to me,” Matt said, before his smile began to falter, an air of seriousness permeating the small space once again. “I…also came here to tell you something. Important.” Matt, for his usually cool and collected (if not a bit bruised) demeanor, seemed uneasy and it freaked Ella out a bit. She waited expectantly for him to speak. “I…I think Fisk might be starting the demolition of your block.” Ella blinked. What?

“ _Why_? I swear to _god_ if this is about the break in, I’m going to–”

“No, it’s…part of his plans. I won’t go into detail, but demolition is part of it. I know they’re trying to pass this off as a renovation, but I don’t buy it. I just wanted you to be warned in case people came knocking and asking about your business. I wanted you to be aware,” Matt said, unnerved by the quiet that began to stretch on as Ella thought about the new information.

“… _Thank you_ , Matt. Honestly. I’ll keep an eye out. Besides, I’m a magnet for sketchy stuff,” Ella said, nudging his foot with her own because she didn’t want to get up and risk jostling the popcorn in her lap.

“You’re welcome,” he said, reaching out a hand for the bowl Ella cradled to her chest.

“No,” Ella quipped, holding the bowl slightly out of reach.

“What–”

“There’s only, like, a handful left,” Ella reasoned, taking a piece and popping it into her mouth, grinning like a cheshire cat.

“You know, it requires _energy_ to jump from building to building,” Matt said, making a grab for the food again, only to overbalance and fall forward as Ella deftly dodged to the right.

“Nope, _no_ Ninja Powers, I treasure my popped corn–” Ella began, only to cut off with a squeal as Matt was suddenly on his feet and was reaching both hands out for the bowl. The scuffle ended with both Matt and Ella sprawled on the floor, popcorn bowl resting over Matt’s entire head, bits of kernels stuck in Ella’s hair, and laughter echoing throughout the small establishment.

“Would’ve been easier to have just _given_ me a piece of popcorn–” Matt wheezed out, voice distorted and ridiculous from underneath the bowl.

“I’m stingy, you…you _accountant_ ,” Ella quipped, thinking ahead to the effort it would take to wash the butter out of her hair.

“Close, but _not_ my job,” Matt laughed.

“Close? _Really_?”

“Not even _remotely_.”

“Damn.”

 

~~~~~

 

Matt had stayed for an hour or two more before departing, and Ella had closed up shop soon after. She realized as soon as she stepped outside that Matt hadn’t told her the news about Fisk a moment too soon– there was already sign up across the street declaring that pedestrians and cars alike would be forced to detour starting tomorrow. Various equipment lay sprawled across the way on the sidewalk, and Ella gave it one long look before beginning her trek home. She was two blocks from her apartment complex, turning a corner when she slammed into a body. Ella stumbled backwards and collapsed heavily onto her butt, dazed for a moment. The man she bumped into was in the same position, and it was kind of comic, really, how similar they had fallen.

“ _I’m sorry_! I wasn’t watching where I was going– trying to read _and_ walk. Multitasking is _not_ one my strong suits,” the man rambled, and Ella saw that he clutched a sizable stack of papers to his chest. _“More like term paper and walk,”_ Ella thought, gawking at the folders and what must’ve been a two hundred page document. Her gaze then moved the man’s face– it was on the rounder side and was framed with some dirty blonde hair. He looked… _sweet_. The man quickly got to his feet and reached down to help Ella up. She caught a quick glimpse of the papers on her ascent and the words “Nelson and Murdock” were stamped in bold across the cover page.

“It’s _totally_ fine, no harm done,” Ella said, smiling to reassure him. The stranger who seemed much too apologetic for the situation smiled back in return, equal parts grateful and relieved.

“Uh, I’m Foggy,” the man said, sticking his hand out for her to shake. Foggy had an air of ‘incredibly cool college guy’ mingled with ‘super chill professional’ and Ella thought that it was _awesome_.

“Ella,” she said, eagerly accepting the handshake, “it was nice to meet you, Foggy.”

“It was nice to meet you, too, Ella. Well, besides the impact, and the flailing, and the ground thing,” Foggy said in a flourish, causing Ella to belly laugh.

“Yeah, besides that,” Ella acceded, as Foggy’s phone beeped, inspiring him to let loose a ‘colorful’ word or two.

“I’ve got to go, so, have a great night. Watch out multitasking strangers,” Foggy said, and with one more half smile he was gone, Ella calling out a hurriedly ‘goodnight’ over her shoulder. The encounter had left her on a good note, and she practically strutted the rest of the way to her apartment. Funny, considerate people made the world go round. As she prepared dinner, she briefly thought over the name on the papers.

“Nelson and Murdock,” Ella muttered to herself, while stirring the Mac and Cheese, “that sounds so _kickass_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I was personally iffy about this chapter, but I have A LOT planned for the next one.


	6. Could I, you know, not?

“Detour,” Ella deadpanned, staring at the sign and then at the man in the fluorescent orange vest who looked like a mix between a Pitbull and a meatloaf.

“Yeah,” the man answered, staring down at her in disinterest from under the brim of his safety helmet. Ella glanced around the darkening streets toward where the sign pointed she go, the exact _opposite_ direction of her apartment. This detour was going to take her in a fucking _loop_.

“Can I maybe, you know, _not_? You could pretend not to see, and I wouldn’t rat you out if I happened to walk into a low hanging beam?” she pleaded, feet aching and stomach practically gnawing on her other organs in its hunger. The man continued to stare, expression blank, sniffling once at the cold. She took that as a ‘no’. “Come _on_ , there aren’t even any _bulldozers_ out, who works construction at this hour!?” Ella ranted. The man said nothing, only shifted from one foot to the other before resuming his brilliant job of being a brick wall. They held a short glaring contest (the glare bit of it mostly coming from Ella) before she realized they’d be here all night if she kept this up. “ _Fine_ ,” she snapped, throwing her hands up in surrender, and stomping toward where the sign pointed. Ella knew the area, knew it was shady, and unequivocally grimy, and in the way of her getting home and getting food.

Groaning, she buttoned up her coat, muttering obscenities under her breath as she began her trek. It was just past one a.m. and there weren’t many people about, save for one or two suspicious individuals lurking around some of the more run-down establishments. Ella briefly hoped that she might run into Matt, catching him by surprise as he beat up a drug dealer or something. She wondered if he’d let her get in a good lecture in about drug safety between punches… Hiking her bag further up on her shoulder, Ella began the count down to the leftover Chinese takeout that was practically singing to her from her fridge. She knew she had at least two miles to go until she reached home, wishing to every superior being out there that she’d suddenly develop the power of teleportation. It was during this train of thought that it happened.

Ella didn’t see the headlights, barely had time to register them as the car jumped the curb, screeching around the corner before colliding with her frozen form. She went flying backwards, connecting solidly with the pavement a good twenty feet away. The car slammed to halt, the drivers panicked yelling muted by a tinted window, before they sped on, the whir of the engine disappearing into the night. “ _Ow_ ,” Ella whispered after a few moments, dazedly trying to take stock of any injuries. Her ribs felt like they had curved inward and up into her spine, her legs were tight, like she’d run three, twenty-six mile marathons, and her shoulder, if it had a mouth, would’ve been screaming bloody murder. Her vision went black for a moment and Ella found it in herself to panic– only a little bit. _“You’ll be okay, you’ll be fine. We’re a badass mother hubbard and we’re fine,”_ Ella thought, trying to take a deep, calming breath but failing fantastically. Her breaths were wet, something bubbling up in the back of her throat and making her cough. Ella _really_ didn’t want to think about that.

With her good arm, she reached down into her pocket, fingers gripping her phone in a shaky grasp. It felt undamaged, and Ella exhaled another gurgling breath. Fingers trembling, she raised the phone, forever grateful that 911 was an automatic speed dial. The small action was more or less _agony_ , but she prided herself on her stubbornness. “911, what’s your emergency?”

“Hit…by….a car,” she wheezed out, and the woman on the other end was immediately firing out questions.

“Can you tell me where you are? If not, that’s okay, we can track your location, just stay on the line.” The street signs were way out of Ella’s range of sight, and she hadn’t gotten a good look at them before she was so _rudely_ thrown from her walkway.

“I…don’t know. Want…to call…a friend,” Ella said, and the officer was immediately trying to console her.

“We have your location, we’ll be there soon, honey. We’ll call your friend when we get–” Ella hung up. They knew where she was; now she just needed to make one more call. She wasn’t entirely sure what was driving her to do this– she only knew that she _wanted_ to, and Ella never denied herself much. Arm quivering, she hit Number Two on her speed dial list– the phone only rang once before he picked up.

“привет?” Anatoly snapped, voice barley audible above a rustling of what sounded like folders– maybe papers.

“ _Hi_ ,” Ella wheezed out, forcing the words out despite the pain in her chest and the ache in her jaw.

“…Ella?” Anatoly asked, the sound of shuffling papers going silent.

“This…is she,” Ella said, taking a moment to cough. Something warm and viscous coated her lips. “Just…wanted to tell… you. There was…a car…called…911.”

“Were you hit, what _happened_? Did someone _take_ you–”

“Hit. Not…feeling great,” Ella whispered, finding it increasingly difficult to pull air into her lungs, “I’m not… _dying_ , just…wanted to check in.” Sirens echoed in the distance, growing ever closer.

“Боже мой… Are they _there_ yet– Кто-то получает мой брат! Ella, keep _talking_ ,” Anatoly ordered, and the sound of an engine revving echoed down the line.

“Hard…to talk… I’ll be…fine. Watch over…the Mac and Cheese…k?” she muttered, coughing again, but this time her airway didn’t clear. If anything, it cut her air off completely.

“ _Ella_! Держите keep talking- я не волнует, если он занят , скажите ему, чтобы получить здесь ! Я хочу мужчины Проверка больниц в области , СЕЙЧАС. Where–” Anatoly shouted, but Ella ended the call, the phone clattering to the pavement. The sirens were like shrieks now as they sped down the block, the flashing lights causing Ella to cringe.

“Ma’am!” a paramedic called, footsteps heavy as he sprinted towards her, stooping by her side and checking her pulse. “Ma’am, you’re going to be alright…” he said, the rest of his words dropping off into nothing more than a monotone hum.

 _“I know I am,”_ Ella thought, having it in her to attempt a sarcastic wink, before falling into unconsciousness.

~~~~

Ella awoke to beeping– it was heinously loud and _incredibly_ annoying. “ _Ugh,_ ” she groaned, a dull ache permeating her entire body. One shoulder felt unnaturally stiff, and her legs felt like putty, refusing to cooperate with her attempts to move them. After a few minutes she got one toe to wiggle and called it a victory. With a sigh, Ella opened her eyes, blinking up blearily at the overhead light. When her vision cleared, she took stock of the room– the white walls, scratchy sheets, an empty patchwork chair, and the unmistakable glint of linoleum. _“Hospital,”_ she thought, the day's prior events rushing back to her. The car, the pain, the _call_.

Turning her head, Ella caught sight of her phone and her wallet placed on the plastic bedside table. She craned her neck just enough to see the bold message stamped across the screen: **18 MISSED CALLS.** The brothers were most likely flipping their _shit_. Ella quickly surmised that the hospital room was empty due to three possible reasons. One, the brothers were holding up the front desk staff and demanding her location. Two, they were currently out in the city patrolling for her. Or three, they had run into Matt and all three of them were having panic attacks, or beating the stuffing out of each other, in her store. If it was the latter half of reason three, Ella would be having some _very_ choice words with them later. Although, it suddenly dawned on Ella that she had no idea how _long_ she’d been out…

“I see you’re up!” The voice startled Ella, and her eyes shot to the door where a doctor sauntered in, clipboard in hand. He looked to be in his mid-fifties, brown hair peppered with gray, hands dotted with faint liver spots. “You’re a _very_ lucky woman.”

 _“Well, I got hit by a car, so…”_ Ella thought, giving the doctor a sarcastic thumbs up. He laughed, shaking his head fondly. Ella rolled her eyes but didn’t snap at him– everything was slightly blurred around the edges anyways, the world fuzzy and mellowed. The doctor proceeded to turn away to check the machines beeping incessantly by her side.

“You’re very resilient, uh, Ella, is it?” he asked, and Ella nodded, chest smarting a fraction at the motion. “You took quite a hit– cracked ribs, a shattered femur, and dislocated shoulder. A lot of bruising, too. You’ve been here for about four days, you only underwent one surgery but it was an _extensive_ one. Some drowsiness and disorientation is normal around this time, and if the pain becomes too much, just press the red button by your left hand, and a nurse will be in.”

“Where–” Ella began, pausing once to gather herself at the unexpected bout of pain radiating from her jaw.

“You hit the right side of your face quite hard when you landed– there’s some bone bruising and swelling along your jawline, so it’s going to be hard to talk for a while. I’ll have a nurse bring in a whiteboard later if you want, but for now, I’m guessing you were going to ask where you are?” Ella nodded as enthusiastically as she could. “Mercy General, 174 Chester Avenue– we’re very small, but our care is excellent! We couldn’t unlock your phone, is there anyone you want us to contact?” the doctor inquired, looking for all the world like an anxious father. Ella smiled, and shook her head.

“Phone?” she grit out, pointing to the table and making a grasping motion. The doctor nodded, retrieving it from the table and dropping it into her waiting palm.

“I’ll be around if you have any questions, red button for a nurse,” he reminded her, before taking his leave. Ella sighed, watching the door for a moment, before turning her attention to her phone. Cautiously, vision blurring for a split second, she unlocked it and scrolled through ‘Recents’. All eighteen missed calls were from the same number. Ella gulped, before opening ‘Messages’. She decided to be brief, lest she pass out mid-text.

 ** _Not dead. Kinda high, but okay_**.

The response was almost immediate.

**Where are you?**

That was it; nothing more, nothing less. It was a little strange, but Ella smiled, regardless.

**_Mercy General, Chester Ave._ **

**Are you safe?**

**_Yup._ **

There was nothing more after that, and Ella dropped her phone into her lap as her eyes went slightly cross, walls melding into one another. Ella bit down the yawn that threatened to break free, knowing that she’d regret it, and closed her eyes. She thought for a moment that she should’ve told the brothers not to harass the staff if they managed to visit, but couldn’t muster up the energy. With one last sigh, she melted back into the pillows, deciding to deal with the situation like an adult the next time she awoke. She’d also need the strength to face the hospital bill. Shuddering at the prospect, Ella let her mind wander, and was soon lost to sleep, again.

 

 

Russian Translations:

"My god...someone get my brother!" = “Боже мой… Are they there yet– Кто-то получает мой брат! Ella, keep talking.”

"Keep talking– I don't care if he's busy, tell him to get down here! I want men checking the hospitals in the area, NOW." =“Ella! Держите keep talking- я не волнует, если он занят , скажите ему, чтобы получить здесь ! Я хочу мужчины Проверка больниц в области , СЕЙЧАС. Where–”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you so much for reading! Feedback and commentary are greatly appreciated! :D If the Russian is wrong, PLEASE tell me. Also, feel free to point out any spelling/grammar mistakes!


	7. Don't do anything stupid...

Ella awoke again a few hours later, roused suddenly from a deep sleep, her limbs smarting much more than before. Her leg felt like it was on fire, each breath felt like glass raking against her lungs. She raised her good arm, rubbing sleep from her eyes, guessing that the pain was the reason she was yanked from dreamland. _“Stupid, breakable bones,”_ she thought, instantly knowing that this situation wouldn’t work out for her at _all_. Ella was a terror when she was bored, and for the months ahead all Ella could see were white walls and limited movement.

“She’s in there?” Ella perked up at the voice, trying to crane her head to peer at the doorway. Her ribs loudly protested the small action and Ella hissed between her teeth but didn’t change her position. She strained her ears at the low murmurs seeping in from under the door, failing to see anyone through the tiny rectangle of a window.

“ _Yes_ , but she needs her rest–”

“I won't disturb her, I’m just here to check up,” the voice said, and Ella couldn’t make out for the life of her who it was. She could make a good _guess_ , but she couldn’t be certain.

“Well, alright…” the second voice relented, and then the door was swung open, her doctor stepping inside. When his eyes landed on hers, his eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You’re awake!” Ella gave another sarcastic thumbs up, and the doctor’s surprise melted into relief. “You have a friend here to see you.” He moved to the side and… _Wesley_ made his entrance, looking a little more bedraggled than usual. Ella’s eyes widened, first in shock, and then in mild panic. The brothers were bound to wind up in here at some point in the next hour, and Ella had the distinct feeling that running into Wesley wouldn’t exactly be the _highlight_ of their day. She hurriedly unlocked her phone, determined to tell Vladimir and Anatoly _not_ to visit, but with a final buzz, it died in her hand. _“Damn it all to hell,”_ Ella thought, finally turning her full attention to Wesley. She briefly nodded at the doctor who gave her one last smile before exiting.

“How are you?” Wesley asked, coming to stand beside her. The front of his suit was mildly crumpled, and if it weren’t for that fact she’d say he looked completely composed. Ella gave him a deadpan look, pointing toward her jaw. He nodded in understanding and gave her a bitter, half-smile. “It couldn't hurt to ask,” he said, eyes roving over her face, which was stained in varying shades of blue and purple. Wesley was silent for a few moments before asking, “do you know who hit you? Could you describe the car?” Ella quirked one eyebrow, and she swore to god that she saw Wesley flush. “I’m just trying to make sure whoever did this will know _exactly_ how reckless their driving was, nothing more.” Rage leaked through the barely concealed concern, and Ella stared hard at the man before her until he averted his eyes to the curtain covered window. Just then, a nurse bustled into the room, whiteboard held in her hand. She gave a sheepish smile, silently placing it in Ella’s lap along with one dry-erase marker, and made a hasty retreat upon noticing Wesley’s tight grin. Ella wasted no time in using her only method of communication.

**What, are you going to give him a Defensive Driving Course?**

Ella gave Wesley a reproving look, letting him know that she saw right through whatever nonsense he was trying to pull. “Something of that effect,” Wesley sniffed, shrugging. Ella couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Regardless of the impending violence she might be indirectly responsible for, she let it go.

**How’d you know I was here?**

“Well, when you didn’t show up at your shop, and weren’t in your apartment, I jumped to some conclusions, made some calls,” Wesley replied, clearly ruffled with this line of questioning. He reached up to scratch at the back of his neck, and Ella’s previously closed off expression softened the tiniest bit. He cared, in his own way.

**Did you TRESPASS into my apartment to make sure I wasn’t in it?**

At that, Wesley just nodded sheepishly, the tips of his ears and his cheeks turning a rosy pink. Ella groaned, throwing up her one good arm as far as her ribs would allow, and gave him her best _“what the actual fuck”_ expression. “I am nothing if not _thorough_ ,” Wesley hissed back testily, adjusting his glasses. He jerkily moved around to the other side of the bed, back to her as he made to look out of the window. At that exact moment, Ella caught something out of the corner of her eye that she _really_ wished she hadn’t. Anatoly’s face filled up the door’s small window, and it budged a millimeter in its frame before Ella was flapping her arm like an overexcited bird. She shook her head vigorously back and forth, and as soon as his eyes met hers she did her best to relay to him to _back away_ and _hide_. _“I need to invest in a mad scientist and get some damn telepathy,”_ she thought to herself. Anatoly’s eyes widened, but he didn’t move from his spot, simply mouthing a “ _what_?” at her. The intense urge to strangle the man rose up, but she quickly quenched it when she noticed yet another stare on her.

“Why are you waving your arm?” Wesley inquired, walking back over to her side. Ella felt like she was going to burst a _fucking blood vessel_. Nevertheless, she hurriedly scrawled a response onto the whiteboard, hoping to keep Wesley’s attention on her and _not_ the door.

**Went numb, trying to get feeling back.**

“Do you want me to get a nurse?” he asked, his concern clearly visible on his face this time.

**No, it should be fine, thanks. Just the perks of getting hit by a car.**

Wesley smiled again, briefly, before adjusting his glasses. A nervous tick, Ella noticed. He then glanced at his watch. “Well, I _did_ just come here to check up. I need to be getting back, but,” he said, pulling a business card out of his pocket and placing it on the side table, “if you need _anything_ , don’t hesitate to call.” Ella scribbled down a hasty thank you, before the panic set in again, as Wesley turned for the door. Her heart skipped a beat and she readied to throw her pillow at his back to distract him _yet again_ , but it soon resumed a normal rhythm when the small window was void of curious, confused Russian. Ella sagged back against the pillows, returning Wesley’s hesitant wave as he exited the room. She strained her ears, listening for the sounds of an altercation, but was only met with silence. She hoped that Anatoly, and Vladimir, if he _was_ here, took her wild gestures as a sign to make themselves scarce and to _not_ corner Wesley in the parking lot. She waited in general unease for a solid thirty minutes, fiddling with the hem of her blanket, mind running in circles. Her abundance of wild movements had started all of her injuries throbbing, to the point where every few minutes she had to grit her teeth against the pain. She still refrained form calling the nurse _just yet_. When Ella thought she’d lose her mind, the door swung open with a flourish, stopping just short of implanting itself into the wall. The brothers made their entrance, Vladimir holding a ‘Get Well’ balloon in a white knuckled grip.

“You look like shit,” Vladimir said, walking over to her bedside, obviously fighting to keep his expression neutral. Anatoly pulled up the chair from the corner and plopped down beside her, expression guarded.

**Yeah.**

Ella held the board in a wobbling grip. “Did that _lap dog_ bother you?” Vladimir asked, jaw clenched, hand releasing the balloon and letting it drift across the ceiling. She shook her head, eyes flickering between Vladimir and Anatoly in a seemingly endless loop.

“I thought you were dead,” Anatoly stated, expression giving nothing away. His gaze was hard and a wave of guilt racked Ella– to leave them hanging like that, not knowing if she was bleeding out alone on a sidewalk somewhere…

“Sorry,” she murmured, jaw blistering with pin-pricks of pain, tears welling up. Her chest grew tight, and it was the most _uncomfortable_ feeling she’d ever experienced. _“Get your shit together, ribs, and let me cry,”_ Ella chastised, sniffling to ward off the sobs that were well on their way out.

“We _will_ find who did this,” Vladimir vowed, grabbing her good hand and holding it tight. She could only nod, Wesley’s own promise ringing in her ears, and hold his hand just as fiercely. Vladimir must have seen her flinch when she finally pulled her hand back to let it rest in her lap, because he was instantly in ‘overbearing, worthy of a broom beating’ territory. “Are you in pain? Have they given you anything?” he demanded, and Ella nodded, but batted him away when he reached for the red button. “You need medication,” Vladimir ground out, making another grab for the button, but Ella quickly wrapped her hand around it and held it behind her back to the best of her ability. She pinned Vladimir to the spot with her infamous glare, but he looked anything _but_ ready to relent.

“Why?” Anatoly asked, far too perceptive. Ella’s eyes darted between the two brothers, and she knew that without her broom or the ability to lecture until her face was red, she probably wouldn’t win this battle. With a sigh, she picked up the whiteboard.

**The meds make me drowsy. I don’t want anyone doing anything stupid while I’m out.**

“You are afraid we will run into Fisk’s man,” Anatoly said, and Ella nodded. She at least had a _chance_ at mediation if she was awake, but asleep? Not so much. Plus, Matt must have noticed her absence at the store now too, if everyone else already had. If he showed up, along with everyone else, they were all so, _so_ screwed. The brother’s she trusted. Bandana Head she trusted. Wesley she trusted… moderately. Fisk? Fisk was the only variable that could bring everything and _everyone_ down into a burning pile of broken broom handles. She was going to have to have a lengthy talk with that man, sooner or later. Seeing as though she couldn’t actually talk right now, it would _definitely_ be later.

“We will be more careful, stay out of sight,” Vladimir said, and Ella knew that that promise was only as good as their ninja skills, which, if today’s scenario was anything to go by, needed some _serious_ work.

**AND you won’t do anything stupid, right?**

Vladimir bit his tongue but nodded, rolling his eyes. Ella would have to be content with that for now.

“Now that we have agreed, you need pain meds,” Anatoly said, and Ella finally acquiesced. The nurse was in the room almost as soon as the button was pressed, injecting one of the IV’s with what Ella presumed to be morphine. She hardly paid any attention to the brothers who took to loitering menacingly in the corner.

“That should be enough. If you’re still hurtin’ just give that button another press and I’ll be back, okay?” she said, and Ella smiled in answer. The nurse took a minute to smooth down her blankets, and then left as quickly as she’d appeared. Ella could feel the drugs effects almost immediately, eyelids becoming leaden weights.

“We will stay, make sure you don’t fall out of bed,” Anatoly said, expression significantly softer than it had been a moment prior. Ella was going to argue, stating that they couldn’t _both_ sleep in the chair, and standing was bound to become uncomfortable, and the floor just couldn’t be _that_ sanitary, when Anatoly caught her gaze. As if reading her mind, he lowered himself into the chair, leaned back, and placed his arms behind his head. He gave her a wolfish grin and Ella threw him a half-hearted glare. She shuffled a little to get comfortable, pulling the blankets up a smidgen.

Just as she was content with her positioning, the window rattled in its frame. After a minute of tense silence, the window slid open. A figure fumbled behind the curtain for a moment, before dropping inside. _“Bandana Head?”_ Ella thought, eyes going wide in shock as he more or less stumbled into the room. The brothers were immediately on their feet, all three men blending together in Ella’s increasingly blurry vision. She could feel sleep grasping hold of her limbs as the men advanced toward each other, their words muffled and indecipherable. " _Is it too much to ask for some luck every now and again? Is it?!"_ Ella hissed to herself, fighting to stay awake but quickly losing the battle. With one last burst of energy, Ella pushed past the waves of drowsiness to speak.

All of the men paused in their advances and turned, when Ella managed to speak a full sentence for the first time in days. “If you hurt one another, I will hunt you all down one by _one_ and make you _wish_ that Fisk had gotten to you first,” she snarled, before exhaustion won out and she succumbed to a much needed rest. Only time would tell if her threat, and their friendships, were able to hold them at bay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! If you notice any grammatical or spelling errors, please don't hesitate to point them out! I hope you enjoy the chapter. :)


	8. Well, fuck.

Ella awoke to the worst case scenario– at least in _her_ book. She blinked the sleep from her eyes, the shouts filling the room making her want to bury her head underneath the pillow and never uncover it. Still admittedly bleary, she took in the scene before her with trepidation and more than a fair share of fear. The brothers stood in front of her bed, guns raised, Matt standing rigidly, but no less hostile, next to them. Wesley stood by the door, his own gun drawn, face red as he shouted at the Russians who were screaming back just as belligerently. Wesley’s suit was mussed up as if there’d been a scuffle. Vanessa stood, withdrawn and contemplative, directly to the right of Ella, leaning against the wall. Her only tell of unease was her white knuckled grip on her purse;  _t_ _hat_ meant that Fisk would not be far behind. Huffing out a panicked breath through her nose, Ella waved an arm, trying to get someone’s attention. No one even _flinched_.

“I’ll kill you _both_!” Wesley screamed, finger tight against the trigger. The brothers spat something absolutely venomous back– even though it was in Russian, Ella had no doubt that it was scathing as all _hell_.

“ _You_ , put the gun _down_ ,” Matt ordered, jabbing one finger at Wesley, who only lifted his lip in a silent snarl. Ella resumed waving her arm, eyes widening and heart pounding as she was continually ignored. She hurriedly grabbed the whiteboard, and blindly flung it. It flew past Vladimir’s head and sailed into the far wall, landing on the linoleum with a loud clatter. Wesley and Matt hardly spared a glance toward it and continued exchanging increasingly violent threats.

“I’ll make sure you’re _all_ decapitated this time. Before the day is out–”

“I’ll jam those glasses down your _throat_ –”

“Nobu’s men will have a field day with you, if Fisk doesn’t tear you apart first–”

“I’ll _hang_ you with that bandana–”

“ _Stop_ ,” Ella mouthed, voice stuck in her throat, jaw uncooperative as per _fucking_ usual. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Vanessa start to edge toward her, but stop once Anatoly turned his gun on her.

“Don’t _move_ ,” he hissed, expression nearly feral. Ella could feel hysteria bubbling up, her heart pounding an unsteady rhythm, an unhinged laugh loitering right under her tongue. She had no hope of controlling this situation– none at all. But that didn’t mean that she wouldn’t _try_. She threw off her blankets, her cast blindingly white under the fluorescents.

“ _Stop_!” Ella tried again, voice cracking and dry, barely audible to her own ears. Stealing herself for the inevitable aches that would resurface, Ella swung one leg off of the bed, then mostly lifted the one encased in the cast to rest beside the other. Her torso was shrieking at this point, ribs cursing her into a grimy, pain filled oblivion. She grit her teeth and stood; took a step.

“Ella, _don’t_ –” she heard Vanessa say, before her legs completely gave out, sending her sprawling across the floor, smack dab between Matt, the brothers, and Wesley. Her body felt like it was on fire, and she viciously fought back a wave of nausea that threatened to send the entirety of her stomach out onto the floor next to her. She had _seriously_ not accounted for how poorly a broken femur and a leg that was more than half asleep would be at supporting her weight. The room went silent, then proceeded to explode into a whirlwind of chaos. “ _Ella_!” Anatoly gasped, immediately dropping to his knees beside her. Vladimir wasn’t far behind, Wesley following shortly after.

“Get _away_ from her,” Wesley snarled, and was met with two, incredibly vehement ‘no’s.

“Just _stop_ ,” Ella gasped, gritting her teeth and attempting to push herself up on a shaky arm. The men, again, paid her no heed and continued to argue over her prone form, each attempting to help pull her up and away from the other. Sucking in a deep breath, Ella steeled herself and then, she screamed. It had its intended effect– everyone started, going silent and still, frozen in place as they tried to identify what, exactly, had happened. “ _Thank you_ ,” Ella bit out, her jaw feeling as if it had come apart at the joints. “Now, _stop_.” Wesley looked back and forth wildly between her and the brothers, occasionally eyeing Matt who was looming over the far corner of the bed. His face went through a range of emotions: anger, confusion, betrayal, before finally settling on a blank expression, his underlying rage revealing itself in the tight lines beside his eyes.

“ _Explain_ , Ella,” he ordered, slowly retracting his hands.

“I…met them…all…a few weeks ago…in my shop,” Ella said, pausing every few words to help alleviate some of the strain of speaking. It absolutely did _not_ work, but she’d be damned if she stopped speaking now. “We’re…friends. I know…what you did…to them, and vice…versa.”

“You didn’t think to _mention_ it?” Wesley all but shouted, shooting to his feet and hurriedly backtracking as if she’d grown horns and began spitting fire.

“I didn’t…want this…to happen–”

“So you’d have us tip-toe around each other for…for however long you decided to keep this up?” he demanded, face reddening. “And then what? If we happened to run into one another and someone got killed, you’d hold a grudge against the person who pulled the trigger?”

“ _Wesley_ –”

“ _No_. You _know_ I can’t let this go,” Wesley said, and the brothers stood, Anatoly squeezing her good shoulder once before moving away. “I need to alert my employer of this new situation.”

“I hoped…you wouldn’t. I just…I wanted–”

“What, _friendship_? Wanted us all to get along like children on the playground?” Wesley shot back, phone already in hand. Ella had no response to that, because some part of her _had_ wanted them to all at least be _civil_.

“If I…could just…talk to–”

“ _No_ , Ella,” Wesley snapped, and the brothers looked like they wanted to tear him into bitesized pieces. Vanessa watched quietly from the corner, brows knit in something Ella couldn’t quite identify. With that, Wesley put his phone to his ear and the room yet again flew into motion. The brothers sprinted past Wesley and out into the hallway, Matt almost _teleported_ through the window, and a nurse rushed into the room, probably having heard the chaos.

“Oh my, I, dear, I’ll get the doctor,” the nurse stammered out, giving Wesley a spitfire glare before hastily retreating.

“I’m _sorry_ …I didn’t…mean–” Ella began, feeling tears welling up for reasons completely unrelated to her injuries. Wesley only pocket his phone, shook his head, and turned to leave.

“Wesley…” Vanessa murmured, eyes full of pity as she stared down at Ella.

“We need to leave before they call security,” Wesley said, not slowing his stride as he exited the room, the door clanging loudly behind him. Vanessa looked mildly put out with his attitude, but complied. “It was nice to see you,” Vanessa said, smile tight before following after Wesley. Ella remained on the floor, ears ringing, hands clenched, and waited for the nurses to come in and help her up.

 

~~~~~~

 

As it turns out, Ella had come _dangerously_ close to dislocating her shoulder again, and had actually re-cracked a rib in her fall. It extended her stay in the hospital by an additional two weeks– two weeks of torturous boredom and what Ella _thought_ was food, but she couldn’t be absolutely certain. In those two weeks, there had been no calls, no texts, and no visits– _nothing_. The gnawing pain of worry had been following her around like a fucking storm cloud, refusing to abate. She didn’t know where anyone _was_ , if they were _dead_ , if they had followed Matt down into an open manhole and had reverted to _cannibalism_ – it wasn’t a comforting thought. Ella took a cab back to her apartment, grimacing as she was forced to take the ancient elevator up to her floor. It smelled vaguely of cat piss and dirty socks, and Ella held her breath during the entire ride. Upon stumbling into her apartment, Ella found that everything was as she’d left it, and for the first time in her life that brought along a wave of disappoint. She had a feeling that no men in fancy suits would be showing up at her door again, any time soon– if ever.

“Stupid crime, stupid heroes. Why couldn’t they all work in _retail_? Apple versus Android would’ve been less dramatic,” Ella fumed to herself, hobbling to her bedroom. She all but collapsed onto her bed, huddling deep under the covers that, thankfully, smelled nothing like antiseptic. The brace on her leg got caught on one of the sheets and she spent a few minutes tugging and cursing at it before freeing herself. “Home sweet home,” she murmured, stomach growling its agreement. Ella quickly rifled through her jacket pocket for her phone, speed dialing the local pizza place and ordering a “pepperoni pizza with extra pepperoni. Extra. _Yes_. Did I stutter? When I said extra I meant _extra_.” With a sigh, she flung her phone down onto her bed and resolved to at least change into some sweatpants– her limited edition Disney World t-shirt would suffice for bed. She threw open her closet, halfway through wildly attempting to kick her pants off of her good leg when the jacket caught her eye. Hanging in between a red button up and an insanely bright, yellow sweater, was Vladimir’s leather jacket. She stared at it for a few moments, chest growing obscenely tight, before removing it from the hanger and throwing it over her shoulders. Her right shoulder protested minutely at the action and she rolled her eyes. _“If I can hold it together, you can hold it together,”_ she thought, clumsily changing into her favorite pair of oversized sweatpants. Just as she was about to hobble into the living room to wait for the pizza man, her phone buzzed, causing Ella to leap onto the mattress. Well, not leap, _exactly_ , more of trip and flop down in a tangle of limbs.Heart thrumming, she hastily unlocked the phone and wanted to re-lock it again, at what the new messaged read.

**Made it to Russia.**

The message that followed simply stated that the phone number had been disconnected. Ella was caught between the urge to laugh and to yell, and briefly thought to chuck her phone into the wall but the nightmare of a bill to come after, stopped her. Vladimir and Anatoly were safe– for _now_ , but they also _weren’t_ in Hell’s Kitchen. Or New York. Or the continental united states, and Ella had no way of contacting them ever again. She sat up slowly, phone held in a white knuckled grip. “They’re home, I’m home. We’re both fine. We’re _fine_ ,” she said, turning the phone off and placing it beside her. “You’re _fine_ ,” she ground out, pushing herself off of the bed as if she could leave all memory of the message there with it, and stalked over to the couch. She sat down and stared hard at the coffee table, ignoring the shadow that the massive painting cast from behind her. “So, _this_ is what it feels like to have everything go to Hell in a hand basket,” Ella said, chuckling briefly at the pun, before quickly sobering up. “ _Fuck_ ,” she hissed out, falling back into the cushions. She pulled the jacket a little more tightly around herself, and then she began to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this chapter was a little more serious than all of the others, and I'm still uncertain about it... Feedback/commentary would be greatly appreciated! Thank you so much for reading; sorry for such a long wait! :)


	9. You Didn't Bother to Check for a Pulse?

It had been almost a month since Ella had gotten out of the hospital– another month since she’d seen or heard from the brothers, Matt, or Wesley. She’d run into the blonde man, Foggy, a few times on the street, and they’d smiled amicably at each other, but nothing more. Ella was back to talking in morse code to her unidentified neighbor, through the wall. It was like her life had been on pause and now the regularly scheduled program had picked back up.

The construction on her block continued on, but her store remained untouched. She didn’t know if Wesley was avoiding the demolition of her store on _purpose_ , or if they simply hadn’t reached her section of the block yet. She held out of frisson of hope that it was the former.

The thought of losing her store sent Ella into a spiral of _something_ that she really didn’t feel like analyzing. Vladimir’s jacket hung in her closet, untouched after that first night, and Ella gazed at it from the bed where she currently lounged. It was a foggy Saturday morning, the clouds above promising a spectacularly shitty day of rain and general ickiness. Ella’s ribs and leg had already begun to ache, and, ignoring her alarm, she rolled back over and buried her head underneath her comforter. She couldn’t fathom going into work today and sitting behind the counter for twelve hours without any form of entertainment. _“Without friends,”_ her mind amended, and Ella grumbled in ascension. She dozed for the better part of the day, wandering from her bed to the fridge when her stomach happened to give out a growl. She was quickly running low on food– fruits and vegetables and general healthy things that her store simply didn’t supply. She _really_ wasn’t looking forward to that, though. The nearest grocery store was about a thirty minute walk, no biggie when she was fit as a fiddle, but her leg had been aching something fierce for the past week, so as she propped herself up on the couch, a carton of double chocolate fudge brownie ice cream cradled against her chest, she told herself that she was simply saving up her energy for the trip. Ella idly flipped through channels before settling on the local news, a blue knit blanket thrown over her legs.

_“No word yet on the whereabouts of the masked vigilante that’s been resident to Hell’s Kitchen for the past few months. Many speculate that he may have stopped fighting crime but others speculate that he may have been killed during one of his recent altercations. Consequently, the Russian mob seems to have disbanded. Some wonder if the two are linked–”_

Nearly choking on a wad of ice-cream, Ella hurriedly changed the channel, hand shaking as she gripped the remote. “No more news,” she whispered, heart pounding an uneven tempo against her ribs at the prospect of Matt bleeding out in an alleyway, or actually stumbling down an open manhole and drowning. House Hunters played across her screen as she put the ice-cream down and curled up under the blanket, trying to focus on the renovations the couple would need to complete because “that flower wallpaper is straight out of the _sixties_.” Though, the harder she tried to focus, the more _unfocused_ her mind became. “I am _not_ going to start moping. No, no _way_ , pull yourself _together_ ,” Ella hissed, rubbing at her eyes as her throat began to burn. Everyone had made their choices and she had to respect that. She certainly did not _like_ it, at _all_ , but she needed to _respect_ it, if nothing else. Wesley had been right, as begrudging as Ella was to admit it– hoping they’d all get along was definitely more _optimistic_ than _realistic_. “I hate logic,” she muttered, throwing the blanket up and over her head, and listening to the first drops of rain fall heavily onto the window ledge.

~~~~

It was still raining buckets early the next morning, Ella discovering this _very_ unfortunate fact as she all but pried her face off of the couch and untangled herself from the blanket. She’d fallen asleep with the TV on and stood up to shut it off before meandering into the kitchen. She’d resolved to go food shopping _today_ , wholeheartedly betting on the fact that the rain would’ve stopped sometime during the night. As Ella had come to realize, she’d been running _really_ short on luck these past few months. All she had left in her fridge was a bottle of ketchup, a half eaten slice of meat-lovers pizza, and what could, at one time, have been called Chinese take-out. Her stomach hadn’t begun to growl _yet_ , but she knew that she’d be ravenous in the next few hours– the pain meds just did that to her. It was seven a.m., and the store opened at eight. She proposed that if she left now, she’d get to the store right as it opened– the time compensating for her less than pristine condition, of course. Heaving a sigh, Ella hobbled to the bathroom and cleaned up, throwing on her raincoat over her pajama top, and wriggling herself into a pair of sweatpants and sneakers. Quickly finding her wallet and keys, she gave one last, weary look outside, before heading out and starting her trek.

Five minutes into the trek, Ella realized that she’d made a horrible, _horrible_ mistake. Her raincoat, a cheap thing she’d got at a yard sale, was already soaked through to the inner lining. Not only was she cold, but the added weight of the wet material did _nothing_ for her injuries. Her leg, according to her doctor, _and_ her nurse, and the nurses’ _assistant_ , wouldn’t be fully healed for about twelve weeks, _maybe_. That was the _minimum_ time allotted on her stamp of healing and Ella had planned her life according to those twelve weeks. But, judging by the blistering pain shooting up through her leg and spiderwebbing into her hip, she wasn’t as close to healed as she’d thought. It’d only been eight weeks, give or take, and the prospect of not being able to walk more than _two_ blocks without collapsing was _infuriating_. Her ribs were also burning with exertion, but those were easier to ignore. “What I do for food,” Ella snapped, eyes laser focused on the street ahead as she continued on.

At the fifteen minute mark, Ella was ready to gnaw her leg off if it meant getting to the grocery store faster. She should’ve been halfway there at this point, but she’d only made it five blocks, powered by sheer determination. She’d definitely considered hailing a cab, but she didn’t have any cash on her person to do so– she’d planned on withdrawing money at the store's ATM. The grocery store was thirty blocks away. “Twenty-five to go, we _got_ this,” Ella groused, trying to mentally fortify herself for the rest of the walk, because she’d already resigned her body as a lost cause.

She was halfway through the seventh block when her leg completely buckled, sending her sprawling out across the pavement. She laid on the sidewalk for a few seconds, cheek pressed against the wet cement before heaving herself up into a seated position and scooting back to rest against the wall of the building to her left. Ella was grateful that no one seemed to be out so early on a Sunday morning– she’d only passed six people on her path. Cheeks suddenly flushing a nasty red, she threw her hands up and smacked them down beside her in a fit of rage. “ _Damnit_!” she screamed, huffing as her voice echoed through the empty street. Her sweatpants were now almost entirely soaked and a chill had begun to set in. As if on queue, a peal of thunder rang out, heinously loud. “I can’t catch a goddamn _break_ , fucking storm thinking it has _any_ right to be here,” she hissed, pulling her hood up further and gently massaging her leg. The cold press of her wet sweatpants was helping, but her leg continued to throb wildly, the pain sending her mood down into a rapid tailspin. The rain progressed from a steady shower to an outright downpour, and Ella was _stuck_. Minutes ticked by and she made the decision that once she could stand, she’d trudge the seven blocks back to her apartment and eat take-out and delivery pizza for the rest of her life.

“Are you…alright?” The voice startled Ella, causing her to jerk her head backwards into the brick wall behind her. She hadn’t even _heard_ anyone approach, lost as she was in her own miserly fate between the eternal choice of pepperoni or Italian sausage. “Ow,” she groaned, absently rubbing at the back of her head as she looked up to see who had spoken. Foggy stood over her, umbrella in hand, and worry plastered across every line of his face. His eyes widened when he realized it was her and he immediately bent down, leather messenger bag skirting the puddle to Ella’s left. He was dressed in his usual business attire. “Oh my god, are you _okay_?”

“Yup, _totally_ fine, I just like freezing to death in the rain on Sundays, it’s my _favorite_ pastime,” Ella snapped, as she leveled a glare onto the blonde man. She immediately regretted her words when his face crumpled, first in surprise, and then in indignation. “Look, I’m not having the best of mornings, I’m _sorry_. You didn’t deserve that,” she said, scrubbing her hands down her face.

“Hey, it’s fine, I’ve had my fair share of shitty mornings. Anything I can do to help?” Foggy asked, the genuine concern slowly chipping away at the mountain of anger that had been building in Ella’s chest.

“No, I’m– well, could you, maybe, call a cab? I don’t have any money on me to pay for the ride, and I _swear_ I’ll pay you back! I’m not going to make it to where I’m going by walking, but I’ll give you my address and you can come pick up the money–” Ella rambled. There wasn’t much that she hated more than asking for help, _especially_ from strangers.

“Yeah, no problem! Take a breath, you look like you’re gonna hyperventilate,” Foggy said, already reaching for his phone. Ella followed his suggestion, pulling in a few deep breaths and continuing to rub her leg. She listened as Foggy called the cab, giving out their present address. “Okay, how much would it cost to get from here to…?” he asked, giving her his phone so she could type in her own address.

“The grocery store on 16th. Ten dollars _maximum_ ,” Ella replied, taking the bill he offered with a grateful, weary smile.

“Do you need help getting up?” he asked, and Ella reluctantly nodded, bracing herself. He put an arm around her waist and pulled, depositing Ella onto her feet. Her leg throbbed as blood rushed back to the area, nausea biting sharply at her stomach. For the first time since the accident, she found herself half-heartedly wishing that Wesley had given the hit-and-run driver that “defensive driving course”. Foggy stayed with her until the taxi arrived, the two lightly conversing during the wait. Before she got in, she leaned over and gave him a tight hug.

“Just, thanks again. _Really_. You don’t know how much you saved me on this one,” Ella said, and Foggy only shrugged his shoulders humbly, giving her a wide smile.

“It was no big deal, honestly. Good luck!” Foggy said, waving once, and then continuing on his way. Ella waved back and then settled into the cab, giving the driver the address and then settling back into the leather seats.

~~~

Ella got home around ten, having been able to hail a cab on the return trip, much to her relief. _Not_ to her relief, however, was the amount of bags she’d brought back with her. The taxi driver helped her lift them out of the trunk and into the lobby of her building, but didn’t have the time to help her carry them upstairs. Ella, to her very core, was a ‘one trip– two trips are for the weak’ woman. She had seven bags, three filled with canned goods and proteins, the others filled with fruits, vegetables, and miscellaneous snacks. There was no _humanly_ possible way that she was carrying all of the bags up in one go– if not her leg, then her rib would have something _very_ nasty to say about any attempt at it. Ella originally bought the apartment because it was cheap and it was a walk up, meaning she’d need to stay in reasonable shape to make it up three floors. She wanted to strangle her old self right about now. “If we do this, we can sleep for _two_ days _and_ eat the rest of the ice-cream,” Ella said, trying to talk herself into starting the trip. She was shivering, achey, and in a mood as foul as the takeout in her fridge. Grabbing two of the heavier bags, and one of the lighter ones, she shuffled toward the stairway, raising one foot onto the first step. “Fuck _everything_ ,” she grumbled, raising her other foot and beginning the slow ascension.

By the time Ella reached her door, ten minutes had passed and she all but collapsed in her entryway. The only sound in the hallway was the steady dripping from her sweatpants, and her ragged breathing. “ _Five minutes_ ,” Ella gasped, laying herself against her door and trying to catch her breath. She’d rest there for five minutes and then she’d go get the rest of her bags. “Five minutes…”

Well, five minutes quickly turned into two hours, Ella jerking awake sometime around noon. All she wanted was to throw a world ending tantrum and hurl her groceries over the stairwell railing. She groaned deep in her throat, before latching onto the doorjamb to stand. She’d just planted her feet when a voice spoke from her right. “It looks like you need help.” Ella fought the urge to sneer, lip pulling back at Wesley’s detached, mildly condescending tone.

“How _long_ have you been standing there? That’s one thousand shades of creepy, and I don’t _need_ any help, so _piss off_ ,” Ella growled, limping over to the stairwell. Her anger, which had dulled to a low simmer, boiled up, fueling her.

“A few minutes, I need to talk to you,” Wesley said, quickly stepping forward and latching onto Ella’s wrist.

“A few _minutes_? So, you saw me passed out against my door and didn’t even bother to check for a _pulse_? I’m insulted, _really_ , I am. That’s a _complete_  asshole move,” Ella bit back, shaking him off and lowering herself down onto the step. Whether Wesley deserved the verbal lashing or not, Ella was still half-asleep and on a rampage.

“Wait, let me– I’ll go get your bags,” Wesley said, and before Ella could even open her mouth to protest, Wesley was turning the corner on the first landing. Pursing her lips, Ella walked back to her apartment, opening the door and shoving all of the bags across the threshold. She left the door cracked and then fell heavily into a kitchen chair, scooting it into the living room when Wesley reappeared, bags in hand. Her dropped them by the others and then came to stand hesitantly in front of Ella, the coffee table safely between them. He was quiet for a few moments, expression unreadable and Ella was _so_ not in the mood for twenty-questions or more blame.

“You said you needed to talk, so _talk_ ,” Ella said, hands gripping the couch cushions, nails digging into the soft material.

“I…you know I’m _incredibly_ inept at apologizing, and it’s going to be difficult for me–”

“It’s _already_ difficult for _me_ ,” Ella said, and it was the truth– she was exhausted and in pain and the word ‘apology’ simply wasn’t registering in her brain. “What were you gonna do? Wait until I woke up? Leave me in the hallway if I _didn’t_?”

“No, I didn't know what to say and–”

“And you thought that when you discovered me _unconscious_ in a hallway, it would be the perfect time to gather your thoughts?”

“Will you _listen_?” Wesley shouted, and Ella’s mouth snapped shut, though her glare stayed in place. “I came to see you because I didn’t think that this apology could be in any other form than _words_ ,” Wesley said, catching Ella completely off guard. “It wasn’t _right_ , how I left you on the floor in that hospital room. I won’t apologize for _everything_ that I said, because most of it was undeniable truth, but I want to apologize for _how_ I said it. You’re…a neutral party and…I apologize for accusing you of anything.”

“…What?” Ella murmured, completely thrown out into left field. Of everything that she would have ever expected to come out of Wesley’s mouth, it wasn’t _that_.

“I’m sorry,” Wesley said, face softening. Ella was eerily silent as she stared at him, hands balling themselves into fists, her knuckles going white. Wesley grew progressively more uncomfortable until he shoved his hands into his pockets and spun on his heel to leave.

“Is this the first time you’ve been into my apartment without breaking in?” Ella asked, eyes glued to his shoes as he stumbled at the sound of her voice. Wesley was bewildered for all of a minute before he caught on, a small grin tugging at the corners of his lips. This was Ella’s roundabout, completely unnecessary way of accepting his apology.

“Yes,” he answered, fiddling with his glasses as they started sliding down his nose.

“How does it feel?” Ella asked, finally meeting his eyes, a small smile of her own breaking through.

“…Better,” Wesley responded, smile growing a fraction of an inch.

“Good. That’s good,” Ella chuckled, running a hand through her hair.

“Well, I need to get back to work. I’ll see you around?” Wesley said, and Ella felt the slightest nudge of hope against her heart. The weeks ahead seemed to grow a little brighter.

“Yeah,” Ella said, but quickly added on, “but, you know that if the other guys come back, I’ll be talking to them, too?” Wesley’s smile dimmed a bit, making it a little sadder than before.

“You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t,” he said, staring at her a moment longer before leaving. Ella watched him go, listened as the front door clicked close, and stayed seated until she could no longer hear the click of his shoes against the steps. Sighing through her nose, Ella stood and proceed to put away the perishable items before changing into a dry set of clothes. The rain was still falling in buckets outside, an incessant ‘drip drip drip’ against her ceiling that did wonders for her frayed nerves. She practically inhaled an apple and some instant oatmeal before making her way to the bedroom. Without a second thought she slipped into Vladimir’s jacket and curled up under the covers. “I miss you guys,” she mumbled into the pillow, sleep hastily pulling her under. Ella slept peacefully for the first time in weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I have no idea what to think of this chapter???? There were so many things I wanted to do and I wound up with this???? Comments, feedback, ANYTHING would all be tremendously appreciated. Thank you so much for reading and I'm sorry for such a long wait!


	10. Window Shades and Ninja Muffins

Ella slept peacefully for the first time in weeks for exactly _five_ hours. She awoke to a firm grip on her injured shoulder, the hand in question shaking her _just_ shy of gently. “ _Ow_ , ow, _fuck_ ,” Ella snapped, flailing her other arm toward the intruder, good leg kicking out from under the blankets. Her eyes snapped open, the room a blur as they struggled to adjust. The hand immediately disappeared, and Ella scrabbled across the bed, whirling around once she’d planted her feet on the floor.

“ _Shit_ , I’m _sorry_ , I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Matt said, hands outstretched, palms facing her to show he meant no harm. Ella almost collapsed in relief.

“ _Jesus_ , Matt, you go missing for _weeks_ and you decide to make your re-entrance by trying to shake my arm out of its socket?” Ella snapped, but there was no heat behind her words– only lingering exhaustion and a long-awaited calm.

“I’m _sorry_ , I forgot what shoulder was injured–”

“It’s fine, it’s _fine_ ,” Ella reassured, rubbing absently at the joint, “where have you _been_?”

“I… _uh_ …I got into a pretty bad fight with one of those other ninjas I told you about,” Matt said, taking a hesitant seat on the edge of her bed. “I’ve been healing– strict bedrest orders.”

“Orders that you’re _obviously_ not following. Sitting on my bed right now does _not_ count, so don’t even _try_ it,” Ella said, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She shuffled over and plopped down beside Matt, leaning lightly against his shoulder.

“You were right about the armor…I need it,” Matt said, after a few minutes of comfortable silence. His voice was… _off_ – not exactly on the verge of _cracking_ , but unsteady.

“Knew I would be,” Ella replied, turning to look at him, and taking in the array of bruises and cuts across his face. From what she could see of his hands, they didn’t seem to be in much better condition.

“It– it was _close_ this time, Ella– _too_ close. A friend found me bleeding out in my living room, and it was– I thought that was _it_. I…I don’t think I’ve ever been that _afraid_ ,” Matt murmured, hands tightening on the bedspread. Ella stared hard at the side of his face, throat tight, jaw set. She reached down and placed one of her hands over Matt’s, squeezing softly.

“At least you still have your spleen,” Ella whispered, but the joke never quite found its way into her voice. A resounding ache blossomed throughout Ella’s chest, but it had nothing to do with her ribs.

“At least there’s that,” Matt conceded, slightly more lighthearted.

“So, to be _crystal_ clear, you’re getting the armor, _right_?” Ella asked, because she had to hear a definitive answer. If she didn’t, she’d be making him some goddamn armor _herself_ – or she’d resort to eBay.

“Yeah, I…know a guy,” Matt said, and Ella didn’t push for details.

“Will it look the same as your last suit, outfit thing?”

“I had something a little more… _metaphorical_ in mind,” Matt replied, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“If I see any reports of a unicorn, or a Samurai Jack cosplayer, or _anything_ of the like, you and I will be having a serious, _serious_ talk,” Ella snapped, causing Matt to let loose a strained chuckle, back going rigid. He briefly clutched at his chest as the tension left his body.

“I don’t think you’ll be seeing anything _that_ strange.”

“But you admit that it’s _strange_?”

“…yes?”

“You’re _impossible_ , you and your goddamn _irony_ ,” Ella chastised, scoffing for dramatic effect. Matt’s smile was a bit wider this time– it tugged at the cuts along his jaw. After a few minutes the two laid back, resting shoulder to shoulder and staring up at the pockmarked ceiling. Ella’s air conditioner hummed in the background, nearly drowned out by the traffic noises below.

“Has anyone else stopped by?” Matt asked, and Ella didn’t need to ask who he meant.

“Wesley,” she said, and Matt fists clenched, before relaxing, palms flat against the blanket.

“ _Yeah_?” Matt’s voice was a taught rubber band waiting to snap.

“He apologized; helped with my groceries. It was… _odd_ ,” Ella muttered, trying to drop the subject. She immediately knew that Wesley had something to do with the man who’d almost killed Matt– she really, _really_ didn’t want dwell on that. He didn’t respond, only took a few deep breaths, one leg bouncing against the bed from where it dangled over the side.

“How’s the store doing?” Matt asked, and Ella didn’t like this change in conversation any better.

“It’s fine, I _guess_ – business is a little slow because of the construction work and the fact that I’m only there for half a day now, which _sucks_ because _I’m losing my fucking mind_ staring at this ceiling for hours on end, and it’s grating on my nerves that the workers are _suspiciously_ demolishing every building _except_ for my store, so it’s almost like a sick waiting game, but, you know, _fine_ ,” Ella rambled, crossing her arms over her chest as if that’d help cover up the sudden rawness in her voice.

“I’m _sorry_ –”

“Nope, _no_ , you have _nothing_ to be sorry for, I’m just an asshole who _hates_ logic and logic hates _me_ , and we hate _each other_ , and now we’re _here_ , and it– it sucks _ass_ ,” Ella laughed, trying her damnedest to make the tightness in her throat disappear.

“Sucks ass?” Matt echoed, sounding completely confused.

“What, you’ve _never_ heard that saying before?” Ella asked, incredulous.

“ _No_ – I mean, I’ve heard of ‘ _sucks_ ’, but never with ‘ _ass_ ’ attached to it,” Matt said, as if the very idea was mildly repulsive.

“You sound like a ninety year old man–”

“I do _not_ –”

“ _Oh, back in my day, we didn’t say ‘ass’, we said ‘buttocks’!_ ” Ella mocked, dissolving into a fit of giggles at Matt’s outraged huff.

“I’m not _ninety_ ,” Matt murmured, kicking his foot against the side of the bed for emphasis.

“My bad, you’re _eighty-five_ , I’m _terrible_ with numbers,” Ella shot back, smiling when Matt turned to glare at her.

“I forgot how sarcastic you were,” Matt said, shaking his head.

“So, if you _remembered_ how sarcastic I was, you _wouldn’t_ have come to visit?”

“That’s _not_ what I meant–”

“I’m _wounded_ , Matt. I can’t _believe_ you! You come into _my_ apartment, disrespect _my_ sarcasm–“

“It never ends,” Matt exhaled, equal parts amused and exasperated.

“Not really, no,” Ella said, entirely unapologetic. They laid in silence for a few more minutes, before Matt struggled into a seated position.

“I need to get going, I have work in the morning,” he said, sighing, before pushing himself to his feet.

“ _Work_? I thought you were on bed rest?” Ella said, voice dangerously level as she sat up.

“Well, _yes_ , but I can’t leave my friends– _co-workers_ hanging for another day, and I can’t _not_ work–”

“ _Matt_ ,” Ella snapped, and his shoulders slumped.

“ _One_ more day and _then_ I go back into work,” he reasoned, and Ella ran a hand through her hair, half-heartedly glaring.

“You better be super glued to the bed tomorrow,” Ella warned, quickly adding, “that sounds _vaguely_ dirty, _but_ –”

“I get it, I _get_ it,” Matt said, waving off the rest of whatever Ella was going to say.

“Good,” Ella said, standing, and before Matt could move, enveloped him a hug– not a _bear_ hug, though, because that wouldn’t have done _either_ of them any favors. Matt hugged back immediately, fingers tangled in the fabric of her pajama top. Ella closed her eyes, content for all of five seconds, before her eyes snapped back open in simultaneous realization and confusion. “ _Wait_ , how did you get into my apartment?”

“Ninja, remember?” Matt chuckled, extracting himself from the hug and heading over to the window. Ella had never wanted to face-palm harder in her entire _life_.

“Oh my _god_ , use the door like a goddamn _normal_ person– _how did you survive infancy_?” Ella admonished, steering Matt out into the living room.

“Okay, _okay_ , _goodnight_ , Ella,” Matt said, batting her hands away before pulling up the hood of his sweatshirt.

“Goodnight,” she said, following the vigilante to the door and then closing it behind him. “And I thought that _I_ didn’t have any self-preservation instincts, I’m Bear Grylls compared to that…that _muffin_ ,” Ella muttered, trudging back into her bedroom.

~~~~

“But it’s _nighttime_.”

“Yeah– _what_?” The man looked up from the can of chicken soup he was _seriously_ overanalyzing, mouth half open in confusion.

“It’s 10 o’clock– at _night_ ,” Ella mused, leaning against the counter and placing her chin in her hand. She looked the man up and down, taking in his all black ensemble and shaved head, her eyes lingering on his Matrix-esque trench coat. But what had _really_ caught her attention was the _sunglasses_. Today was Ella’s first full day, well, _night_ , back at work, newly motivated after Matt’s surprise visit, and the weird shit _just kept rolling in_.

“…yeah?” the man drawled, obviously, _terribly_ , confused.

“Did you get your eyes dilated?” Ella asked, silently reveling in the way his face scrunched up, head tilting slightly to the side in a _“what the actual fuck”_ gesture. Not that Ella would ever _admit_ it, but she was _one-hundred percent_ certain that she was at least _twenty-five percent_ sadist. Making people squirm was just too much damn _fun_.

“ _No_? What are you–”

“The _sunglasses_. You’re _inside_ , at _night_ , and you’re wearing _sunglasses_. Either you have two black eyes, are _incomprehensibly_ hungover, or you got your eyes dilated at the optometrist,” Ella listed, eyes narrowing as she tried to spot any trace of bruising under the glasses.

“None of the above,” the man deadpanned, turning his attention back to the soups. They passed the next few minutes in silence, and Ella was growing more and more certain that he wasn’t looking for the right blend of broth and cubed chicken pieces.

“You have a…migraine,” Ella stated, watching as the man’s shoulder’s tensed. He turned and gave Ella a tight smile, before walking further down the aisle toward the door. He stopped about halfway to the exit, and began ‘examining’ the boxed macaroni. Ella’s smile was absolutely _devilish_. “You _know_ this is a _very_ small store, right?” The man didn’t respond, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. “As in, I can _still_ see you and I _know_ that you can hear me–”

“Are you always this chatty with your customers?” the man groused, head whipping around to face Ella, who only grinned wider in response.

“Yes,” she said, without pause, causing the man to sigh deeply as he pinched the bridge of his nose, probably trying to maintain his composure.

“ _Look_ , I’m waiting for someone, and I’d prefer to wait for him in _silence_ ,” he replied, voice now as tight as his smile.

“Then you should be waiting for him in a _library_ ,” Ella said, shrugging.

“Do you have a _problem_?” the man asked, unnervingly calm. He stalked down the aisle with a measured stride, and placed his hands down onto the counter directly in front of Ella. She glanced down at his hands, sniffed, then looked back up at his face. _“Wait a minute, that’s a pretty nice jawline–_ no _, we are not starting this again, you thirsty motherfucker,”_ Ella thought to herself, shaking her head and standing up straight.

“ _My_ only problem is trying to figure out _your_ problem, because there _has_ to be a problem if you’re wearing _sunglasses_ at _night_ ,” Ella reasoned, crossing her arms. The man huffed out a breath, before reaching up and removing his sunglasses. There weren’t any bruises, no dilated pupils, and no visible signs of pain at the bright fluorescents.

“ _See_? No problem here,” he said, shooting Ella a placating smile that was more than a _little_ rough around the edges.

“So, are they a part of your… _aesthetic_ or something?” Ella asked, hands gesturing vaguely at his person, eyes lingering a _fraction_ of a second too long on his chest. That button down fit him _way_ too nicely…

“You could say that,” the man chuckled, putting his sunglasses back on.

“Do you think that Keanu pulled off the trench coat look better or do you think you could take him down on a runway?”

“Wait, _who_ –”

“ _No one_ , it’s not important, _anywho_ , it’s badass. I give it a _solid_ ten out of ten– no, _nine_ out of ten for the temporary sunglasses confusion,” Ella said, and the man nodded slowly, clearly lost.

“Thanks…” he muttered, absentmindedly adjusting his coat.

“Who’re you waiting for?” Ella asked, and the man stared, gaze hard, for a few seconds past what was considered comfortable, before answering.

“An associate,” he said, shifting so that he was now leaning his side against the counter, body angled towards her.

“An _associate_ – fancy, _fancy_ ,” Ella teased, and the man’s eyebrow twitched just slightly. Ella preferred to think it stemmed from amusement rather than annoyance.

“If your _associate_ knows any _other_ associates that need a side job at a convenience store, I’d _truly_ appreciate it if you could pass the word along–”

“I’m not going to _recruit_ workers for you–”

“Not _recruit_ , just _nudge_ in this direction–”

“No.”

“ _Fine_ , couldn’t hurt to ask. I’m a woman of opportunity, what can I say?” Ella acceded, holding her hands up in a placating manner. That seemed to catch the man’s attention, as he visibly perked up, again removing his sunglasses.

“What _kind_ of opportunity?” he asked, and Ella had heard _that_ tone too many times to know _exactly_ where this was going.

“Okay, _first off_ , the way you asked that was a _little_ skeevy, not going to lie, and I’m into _reasonable_ opportunities, not any of the sketchy, crime, _murder_ opportunities, but I _am_ flattered,” Ella said, and the man looked completely taken aback.

“ _How_ did you–”

“It’s not the first time I’ve had this conversation, _not with you, obviously_ , and I’m not interested…?” Ella explained, trailing off at the end to leave the man room to introduce himself. He missed the hint, brain still trying to process wether or not she was a valid threat. “ _You know what_ , you have the choice between ‘sunglasses’ and ‘trench-coat’ right now, and those aren’t the _worst_ names I’ve given out, so you should be grateful–”

“Shades.”

“What? No, I said _sunglasses_ –”

“My name is Shades,” the man clarified, and Ella balked, before dropping her head into her hands.

“I don’t get _it_ ,” Ella mumbled into her palms, before all but launching herself back up, leaning across the counter conspiratorially. “What _is_ it with you guys and the _names_? To be fair, _I_ was the one who came up with Bandana Head, _but never mind that_ , why in the ever living _hell_  would you name yourself Shades? You _do_ understand that if someone didn’t see you and the whole aesthetic thing you have going on, they could _just_ as easily assume that you mean _window_ shades?” Ella took a breath, expression imploring and honestly curious. Shades stared. And stared. And _stared_. If it was one thing that Ella could _not_ bear, it was endless, pointed _staring_. “Come _on_ , bud, you _can’t_ leave me hanging like that–”

“You’re something,” he said, cutting off her ramble in its tracks.

“I mean, I’m many _somethings_ , so you’re not _wrong_ ,” Ella quipped, earning a charming half-smile.

“Can you keep a lookout for me? Nothing _illegal_ ,” Shades inquired, and Ella was immediately suspicious.

“For who…?”

“He goes by Luke Cage. I don’t think he’s been around here, but…” Shades said, pulling out his phone and bringing up a picture of the man. Ella had never seen him, and said as much.

“Why do you want to find him?” Ella asked, and the man’s smile grew.

“Business,” he replied, and Ella wagged a finger, starting to shake her head.

“Nope, _nuh_ - _uh_ , I need _details_ , more specifically _reasons_ , before I’m designated 'look out' of _any_ kind,” Ella said, and Shades nodded, pocketing his phone.

“That’s smart,” he conceded, putting his sunglasses back on.

“I’m _nothing_ if not _smart_ – well, no, that’s a big _fucking_ lie with a _capital_ L, _but don’t tell anyone that_ , just tell them I’m smart,” Ella blurted, and Shades laughed.

“You sound like you deal with criminals often,” Shades observed.

“Not _often_ , but an advanced version of ‘ _sometimes_ ’,” Ella said.

“Understood,” Shades said, right before his phone started ringing. He stepped away from the counter to answer it. “Yes…Yes…Alright.”

“That was probably the shortest conversation I’ve ever heard,” Ella noted, watching as he adjusted his coat, pulling down the sleeves.

“My employer likes to keep things brief. If you change your mind about what _opportunities_ you’re open to, ask around Harlem for me. I think there could be an opening sooner or later…?” he said, waiting for her name.

“Will do, and…Chair,” Ella said, and Shades looked about as unimpressed as any human being has ever been.

“Your name is not ‘ _chair_ ’,” Shades deadpanned, crossing his arms.

“How do _you_ know?” she said, and he titled his head back, eyes probably scrunched shut as he faced the ceiling. Ella would be forever grateful that she’d lost her name tag the day before.

“You’d probably be more trouble than you’re worth,” he muttered, before spinning of his heel and walking toward the exit.

“That’s probably the smartest thing you’ve said tonight!” Ella called after him, making him pause, hand on the door.

“You sure about that name?” he asked, and Ella sighed. She _had_ been kinda savage with the poor guy…

“Ella. And I’m _only_ telling you on the premise that you _purchase_ something on your next visit, _not just stare down my soups like you’re willing them to combust_ , and for the fact that you did _not_ almost bleed out on my floor,” Ella stated, and Shades shook his head again.

“You’ve had people _bleed out_ on your floor?”

“ _Almost_ bleed out– _almost_. That’s an important qualifier,” Ella snapped, indignant.

“There’s not guarantee that I’ll be back,” the man stated, pushing the door open a smidge, letting in a cool gust of night air.

“Nope, no guarantee at _all_ ,” Ella said, smile blinding, “ _unless_ you like to be verbally assaulted, because I’m _really_ good at that–”

“Have a good night, Ella,” Shades sighed.

“You should really consider changing your name to sunglasses!” Ella shouted as the door was swinging shut. “It’s more straightforward!” Ensuring that he was actually gone, Ella plopped back down onto her stool and whipped out her phone to Google Luke Cage. “Hello Shades, I’m Chair. Meet my friend, Spoon,” Ella chuckled to herself, before beginning her search.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this chapter is jumbled, and scattered, and WHAT?, and did NOT take the direction that I originally planned it to take. I blame Luke Cage and writer's block. I tried. I seriously tried. I'm just so sorry??? What plot??? What's continuity??? I DON'T KNOW. Anyways, I'm so sorry for the long wait! Any comments/feedback would be GREATLY appreciated. :)


	11. Demon Spawn and Career Choices

“For the last time, ma’am, we don’t sell hot meals and/or food,” Ella ground out, resisting the urge to bash her skull in against the counter. The day had started out semi-decently; the sun was shining, her leg actually felt normal, she had a breakfast that wasn’t cold pizza. The peacefulness had been blown to smithereens by this woman who had been harping on about the lack of hot meals for what felt like eons. Ella was about to spontaneously combust.

“You’re a _convenience_ store, aren’t you? There’s nothing convenient about that,” the woman spat, ignoring her pint-sized monstrosity as it tugged mercilessly at the sleeve of her coat.

“ _Moooom_ , I want a hot dog,” the child whined, face ruddy, on the verge of a total meltdown.

“What kind of convenience store doesn’t at least have hot dogs?” the woman complained, placing one manicured hand on her hip.

“This one,” Ella said, smile tight, trying to keep the conversation civil, at the very best. “There’s a McDonald’s _right_ down the street, though–”

“It’s ridiculous! Absolutely _ridiculous_!” the woman continued, almost screaming over Ella.

“Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to leave–”

“ _Mooooom_ ,” the child whined again, voice impossibly shrill.

“You need to get your business together, this is a disgrace–”

“Mom, I’m _hungryyyy_!” the child screamed, making Ella’s right eye twitch. The meltdown had commenced. If the woman didn’t leave immediately Ella was going to do something that she _probably_ wouldn’t regret later.

“You need to take your demon spawn somewhere else before I–” Ella began, leaning slightly forward, hands balling into fists.

“Before you _what_?” the woman shot back, barely heard over the screeching of her child.

“Before you’re forcibly escorted out of the establishment,” a voice said, and Ella hurriedly peered around the woman to see…Foggy? She hadn’t even heard him come in. The woman whipped around, face flushing in anger.

“You can’t–”

“This is private property. I can and I will,” Foggy said, cool as a cucumber, hands folded behind his back.

“I’m taking my business elsewhere,” the woman sniffed, clearly perturbed, and Ella almost collapsed in relief. _“Please, for the love of all that is good in this world, take your business to the edge of the earth and never come back,”_ she thought. With one last scathing look thrown at Ella, the woman marched out of the store, head held high, her kid stumbling along behind her.

“How’re you holding up?” Foggy asked, looking as relieved as Ella felt once the woman had exited the store. Hiking his messenger bag further up onto his shoulder, he walked over, coming to a stop in front of her. Ella fell heavily onto her stool, giving him a weary smile.

“Besides the visit from the demon spawn, I’m holding up as well as can be expected. Thanks for the save. Nice bullshit,” Ella sighed, and Foggy just shrugged, cheeks going the palest shade of pink.

“Don’t mention it,” he said, “you looked like you were about to launch yourself over the counter.”

“Oh, I was. I definitely was,” Ella acceded, crossing her arms and leaning back against the counter.

“ _So_ , what’s up– OH, I have your ten dollars!” Ella spun around, ripped open the cash register and then proceeded to proudly wave a ten dollar bill in front of Foggy’s face. “I completely forgot about the cab, even though I said I wouldn’t, but you’re here now, so here,” Ella rambled as Foggy reached up and took the money from her.

“Thanks,” he said, smile soft, and Ella had the sneaking suspicion that if she hadn’t remembered the I.O.U., he wouldn’t have brought it up.

“What brings you around these parts?” Ella asked, putting on a ridiculous and completely inaccurate southern accent.

“Just wanted to check up on you, you know, since the last time I saw you, you couldn’t really walk,” Foggy said, and Ella beamed.

“That’s really sweet, thank you,” Ella said, “my leg is doing a lot better. Doesn’t feel like it’s going to snap in half while I’m walking up the stairs.”

“That– that’s always good,” Foggy said, brushing a few stray locks of hair behind his ear. “Anyway… I had a… _thing_ to ask you.” Ella raised a brow, gesturing for him to continue when it seemed like his tongue had turned to lead in his mouth. “Do you happen to know a, uh, Matt, by any chance?”

“I do,” Ella drawled, curiosity bubbling up in her chest. She squinted at Foggy, trying to piece together why he would be asking about Matt. Or, a Matt.

“Blind? Usually looks a little worse for wear in the ‘I fell down an open manhole’ way?”

“That’d be the one,” Ella replied with a wry smile. She was glad she wasn’t the only one who noticed. “Why? You know him?” Foggy quickly glanced over his shoulder, making sure no one was in the store, before leaning in a little closer to Ella, face suddenly serious.

“Do you know abut the…thing?” Ella’s eyes narrowed, but she… trusted Foggy. She didn’t think he’d stab either her or the Matt in the back– either figuratively or literally.

“The _ninja_ thing?” Ella whispered back, and Foggy’s eyes widened before he almost collapsed in relief.

“He’s going to give me a heart attack one of these days,” Foggy muttered, running his hand down his face.

“Don’t I know it,” Ella mumbled back, and she could see a great bond forming over Matt’s abject stupidity. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, he’s fine– well, as fine as he can be, given his choice of profession,” Foggy said, “I just wanted to know if you knew. One less secret to keep, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” Ella said, Foggy rolling his eyes as she mimicked him.

“I need to get back to the office, I just wanted to stop by real quick,” Foggy said, snatching up a pack of BBQ chips and a couple candy bars, depositing a five dollar bill onto the counter in the process.

“Yeah, yeah, sure– wait, an office? Does Matt work in an office?” Ella said, their conversation about Matt’s actual job springing up from the recesses of her mind.

“We’re lawyers,” Foggy said, incredulous. “Matt didn’t tell you?” Ella bit down hard on her bottom lip, hands balling into fists and did a tiny flailing dance.

“I fucking _knew_ it! I knew it, now I know why he’s so irritating, no offense, but a lawyer makes so much sense, right behind MMA fighter, and it compliments his sense of irony perfectly, wow, I can’t believe I didn’t see that,” Ella rambled, turning the full force of her ‘I just solved the world’s greatest mystery’ smile onto Foggy. He smiled back, laughing low in his throat.

“You kept his spleen inside his body but he didn't tell you what he does for a living?” Foggy asked, and Ella shook her head, her expression indicating that her mind had just imploded. “Here’s our card, so you can wave it in his face next time,” Foggy said, fishing a business card from out of his pocket.

“Oh my god, you do not realize what type of prank calls you’re going to get,” Ella said, tucking the card next to her register. In hindsight she probably shouldn’t have said that she’d be prank calling… didn’t leave a long list of suspects. Foggy only pinched the bridge of his nose in good natured exasperation.

“I’ll see you soon, Ella. Be careful? Please,” Foggy said, yet again hiking his bag further up onto his shoulder. It was perpetually sliding due to the smooth fabric of his suit jacket.

“Oh, like I’m not? Pshhh,” gesturing to her shoulder, which was almost fully healed, thank you very much. “Also, tell lawyer pants he better be with you next time.”

“I’ll be sure to relay the message,” Foggy said, flashing her one more smile before walking out into the chaos of the Hell’s Kitchen lunchtime rush.

~~~~

The night was unusually quiet on Ella’s walk back to her apartment. Ever since the ‘incident’, she’d been hyper vigilant on her journey home. Ears tuned to screeching tires, eyes darting around in search of rogue headlights. She pulled her coat a little tighter as a car passed, muffler whining a little loudly but otherwise inconspicuous. Ella sighed, breath visible in the chilled air. When the temperatures dropped this drastically, Ella’s leg had a tendency to act up. The dead of winter was slowly approaching and with it colder and colder days. Christmas lights littered buildings here and there, but most of Fisk’s construction stopped any real holiday cheer from spreading. Skeletons of apartment complex’s and small businesses lined the streets, plastic tarps flapping in the wind. “Festive,” she muttered, rounding another corner.

By the time she’d made it to her apartment, she was near frozen to the bone, fingers verging on numb. She’d have to make a stop into the Coat Warehouse and invest in something a little warmer. She dropped her keys twice attempting to unlock the front gate, curses fumbled around her quivering lips. “Summer, you fucking traitor,” she spat, slamming the gate behind her and taking to the stairs. The walk up still winded her but it was bearable now– she no longer had to stop every two steps to accommodate her leg. Upon reaching the top, she paused, eyes closed, head dipped toward her chest as she steadied her breath. _“One, two, three, four, five… five, four, three, two, one,”_ she counted, inhaling and exhaling. Ella then opened her eyes, and promptly dropped her keys for the third time that night.

A man stood in front of her door, hands hanging at his sides, face shielded underneath the hood of a black sweatshirt. He wore run down jeans, hands shoved into his pockets. The hallway light flickered, and the man became approximately eighty thousand times more ominous. Ella placed once foot down onto the step behind her, ready to bolt. Not that she’d admit that. “I’m going to give you to the count of _three_ to stop skulking in front of my door like an edgy Darth Vader,” she spat, one hand gripping the railing, other tightening around her purse strap in case she needed to swing.

“Or what?” the man asked, not quite amused, not quite malicious. Ella’s blood ran cold at the voice, every muscle locking into place.

“Or… or…” Ella mumbled, mind utterly and completely blank.

“Or… broom?” the voice quipped, soft, as if afraid of falling any farther into lightheartedness; as if afraid of her reaction. The accent was unmistakable. The universe started up again with a physical _lurch_ and Ella practically leapt into Vladimir’s arms, fingers digging deep into his hoodie, purse hitting the ground with a thump. The tears were instantaneous, running hot and fast down her cheeks, a sob wrenching its way up from her gut. She had so much she wanted to say, _“you’re an asshole”, “why’d you leave”, “I hate you”, “I missed you”_ , but no words came. Vladimir returned her embrace, grip tight enough to bruise, but Ella ignored her achey ribs, her shoulder, the fact that she was probably getting snot all over his clothes. She tried to fight through her tears to speak, but found herself continually failing as the moments stretched on. Vladimir was the one to break the silence.

“I know,” he whispered, in response to everything left unsaid between them, “I know.” It was an understanding, it was a truce; it was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so it's been actual years and I have no idea how that happened (jk yes I do, I'm a horrible procrastinator plagued with intense writer's block) and I'm so sorry??? I hope you like the chapter, hopefully more will follow shortly after! I love you guys and thank you so much for sticking with the story, you're the only reason this chapter exists. I also know it's a short chapter (sorry about that), but hopefully the writer's block is over. Feedback is INCREDIBLY appreciated, as always.

**Author's Note:**

> PART 2 of the 'Two Mobsters and a Vigilante' series! Feedback and commentary are greatly appreciated, as always. I hope you guys enjoy! 
> 
> You can also find me on Tumblr at: http://awesomeandromedablack.tumblr.com/


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